294  E 


OF  CALIF.  IIHMH. 


THE  WINNING  CHANCE 


FACING  EACH  OTHER  AT  LAST,  THE  GIRL  WHITE,  SHAKING,  HER  EYES  AFLAME 

Page 


THE 

WINNING  CHANCE 

BY 
ELIZABETH  DEJEANS 


WITH   A   FRONTISPIECE 
BY 

GAYLE  PORTER  HOSKINS 


PHILADELPHIA    &   LONDON 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


Published,  May,    1909 


Electrotyped  and  printed  by  J.  B.  Lippincott  Company 
The  Washington  Square  Press,  Philadelphia,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I. 


I.  THE  INNER  SANCTUM 9 

II.  VAREK  SEEKS  INFORMATION 14 

III.  LIZZIE  REFLECTS 22 

IV.  A  LOWERING  SKY 40 

V.    THE  HIGH-CEILINGED  ROOM 54 

VI.    JANET  ASKS  A  FAVOR 66 

VII.    A  STENOGRAPHER'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 78 

VIII.    AN  ERRONEOUS  CONCLUSION 87 

IX.    A  PLEA  AND  A  DEMAND 97 

X.  "  You  SHALL   GIVE    HER  LIGHT — AND  AIR — AND 

SUNSHINE  " 110 

BOOK  II. 

I.  THE  TROUBLE-MAKING  PRESS 119 

II.  AN  ULTIMATUM 129 

III.  THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  BLUFF 143 

IV.  THE  BALCONY 156 

V.  OLD  HEDRICK'S  MISSION 174 

VI.    THE  METHODS  OF  DENIS 188 

VII.    A  PLAN  FOR  THE  FUTURE 207 

BOOK  III. 

I.    HORSESHOE  VALLEY 219 

II.    A  SUNRISE  GREETING 235 

III.  TRUTH,  THE   WHOLE  TRUTH,  AND    NOTHING  BUT 

THE  TRUTH 246 

IV.  THE  SHATTERED  MIRROR 268 

V.    THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 277 

VI.    A  BUTTERFLY  AND  THE  GRANITE 285 

VII.    THE  BETTER  FIGHT 295 

VIII.    "HEAVY  TOLL" 308 

5 


2129393 


BOOK  I. 


THE  WINNING  CHANCE 

i. 

THE  INNER  SANCTUM 

THE  door  of  the  inner  office  of  Varek  &  Co.,  Stock- 
brokers, had  opened  so  quietly  that  Leo  Varek  had  not 
heard  it,  but  the  click  of  the  typewriters  and  ticker 
in  the  outer  office  smote  his  ear  more  sharply,  and 
he  looked  up.  A  young  girl  had  come  timidly  for- 
ward to  his  desk,  and  when  he  lifted  his  head  he  met 
directly  her  troubled  and  more  than  half  frightened 
gaze. 

"This  is  Mr.  Varek?"  she  asked,  hesitatingly. 
"I  have  a  note  for  you  from  Mr.  Calvin  Bronson." 
She  reached  across  to  him  the  paper,  but  while  he 
took  it  his  sharp  eyes  did  not  leave  her  face. 

Then  he  glanced  at  the  envelope.  "Bronson,"  he 
said  in  a  puzzled  way;  then  whirling  round  in  his 
chair  and  pointing  to  one  near  him,  "Sit  down, 
please. ' ' 

The  girl  obeyed,  eying  him  anxiously  as  she  sat, 
one  hand  tightly  holding  the  other  in  her  lap.  But 
his  face  was  expressionless,  and  her  eyes  dropped  to 
the  tip  of  her  much  worn  shoe,  which  she  hastily  drew 

9 


The  Winning  Chance 

under  her  skirt,  and  then  wandered  up  to  the  window. 
Something  bright  had  dropped  out  of  the  sky  to  the 
sill  and  perched  there  as  if  panting,  gently  waving  to 
and  fro  its  gauzy,  scarlet  wings. — A  butterfly ! — What 
had  blown  it  out  of  the  yellowing  September  fields 
and  dropped  it,  helpless,  into  this  ceaseless  roar  and 
clang,  with  nothing  but  hard  granite  to  rest  upon? — 
Something  like  this  and  more  passed  through  the  girl's 
mind,  and  her  great  blue  eyes  widened,  and  a  faint 
color  tinged  her  white  cheek.  A  vision  that  was 
always  in  the  background  of  her  thoughts  arose  dis- 
tinct, and  the  click  of  the  typewriters  and  the  inces- 
sant bellow  of  the  city  faded  into  a  mere  murmur. 

Varek  read  the  note  through  carefully  and  looked 
at  the  girl  a  minute,  then  going  back  to  the  note 
read  it  through  a  second  time ;  turning  then  slightly, 
with  bent  head  and  a  sidelong  glance  he  studied  his 
companion  for  some  time.  Her  eyes  were  on  the 
window,  absorbed,  and  he  took  her  in  from  head  to 
foot — the  cheap  sailor  hat  with  its  bit  of  veil,  the 
worn  but  neat  black  dress,  and  the  carefully  mended 
gloves — the  tip  of  each  finger  he  could  see  was  worn 
through  and  darned.  But  the  face  above  the  bit  of 
white  at  her  throat  was  a  very  flower ;  no  hat  however 
cheap  could  spoil  that  wealth  of  dark  hair,  growing  in 
a  soft  wave  from  neck  and  brow ;  the  contour  of  cheek 
and  chin,  the  sweet  full  mouth,  and  the  low,  well- 
marked  brow  were  all  lovely  in  line  and  coloring. 

10 


The  Inner  Sanctum 

Even  with  ordinary  eyes  the  face  would  have  been 
unusually  pretty,  but  in  all  his  life  Yarek  had  never 
seen  such  eyes — very  large,  too  deep  a  blue  to  be  gray, 
narrow  and  shaded  by  very  long,  very  black  lashes  in 
repose,  wide  and  deep  when  looking  as  she  had  looked 
at  him  across  the  desk.  It  did  not  strike  him  until 
he  knew  her  face  better  that  it  was  the  lack  of  white 
in  the  eyes  that  caused  their  unusualness.  His  gaze 
dropped  next  to  her  rounded  bust  and  small  waist, 
and  a  flicker  of  something  like  a  smile  crossed  his 
face. 

"Bronson  tells  me  you  can  manage  a  typewriter 
well  and  are  used  to  correspondence,  Miss  Carew," 
he  said,  abruptly,  his  voice  incisive  in  spite  of  a 
natural  thickness  of  utterance. 

The  girl  turned  to  him  with  a  quick  start  and  the 
wide  look  he  had  expected.  "Yes,"  she  said,  almost 
stammering,  "I — I  have  worked  for  him,  and  I  think 
I  could  be  quick  and  please  you.  I  certainly  should 
try!"  Her  voice  gained  confidence  and  her  lips 
smiled  a  little,  but  her  eyes  were  anxious.  Her  em- 
barrassment only  accentuated  the  southern  softness  of 
her  speech,  particularly  as  it  lingered  on  the  "cer- 
tainly." 

Varek  laughed  as  if  amused,  his  eyes  dwelling  on 
her  a  moment ;  then  he  turned  and  caught  up  a  letter. 
"Just  copy  that,  please,"  he  said;  "here  is  the  type- 
writer. ' ' 

11 


The  Winning  Chance 

He  moved  very  quickly  for  a  heavily  built  man — 
just  as  the  swift  glance  of  his  keen  eye  belied  the 
almost  stolid  look  of  his  dark,  rather  fleshy  face.  He 
stood  by  the  typewriter  as  the  girl  pulled  off  her 
gloves,  and  not  a  movement  or  turn  of  her  body 
escaped  him.  He  looked  down  at  her  as  her  delicate 
hands  rattled  over  the  keys,  her  lips  parted,  flushing 
in  her  eagerness  to  do  her  work  well  and  win 
approval  of  the  tall  man  at  her  side,  and  he  smiled 
again,  this  time  with  his  eyes  as  well  as  his  lips,  a 
far  pleasanter  expression  on  his  face. 

"All  right,"  he  said;  "you're  not  slow.  Now 
I  tell  you — you  come  on  trial  for  a  couple  of  days — 
come  to-morrow.  I  want  some  one  to  do  my  personal 
correspondence,  it's  a  nuisance  to  take  it  out  to  those 
girls,  and  they  have  all  they  can  manage  anyway. — 
Then  we  will  see."  He  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully 
a  moment,  looking  at  her.  "Mr.  Bronson  says  he 
will  find  you  a  place  before  he  goes;  he  seems  inter- 
ested in  you."  The  tone  was  a  question. 

"Yes,  sir,  he  knew  my  father;  he  has  been  kind 
to  us  since  he  died."  She  spoke  now  with  composure, 
but  she  did  not  look  at  him. 

"Fine  man,  Bronson,"  said  Varek,  his  mustache 
lifting  over  his  big  strong  teeth, — "always  doing  good, 
looking  out  for  the  helpless,  and  protecting  the  widow 
and  orphan!  Isn't  it  so?"  and  he  continued  to 
smile  at  the  startled  look  of  the  girl.  Then  before 

12 


The  Inner  Sanctum 

she  could  answer,  "By  the  way,  how  did  you  get  to 
my  room  without  being  announced  ? "  he  demanded. 

"I  asked  one  of  the  girls,  and  she  pointed  to  this 
room  and  called  'Barnes/  but  no  one  came,  so  she 
said,  '  Go  right  in,  you  will  be  welcome. '  ' 

"Which  one  said  that?"  he  asked,  sharply,  and 
the  girl  colored,  fearing  from  his  black  look  that  she 
had  made  trouble. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said.  "It  was  the  one  with  the 
yellow  pompadour,  nicht  wahrf — Well,  to-morrow  at 
nine,"  and  he  whirled  himself  into  place  at  his  desk. 
The  girl  went  out,  and  he  watched  her  slender  figure 
and  erect  carriage  as  she  passed  through  the  outer 
office,  the  street  door  being  opened  by  "Barnes." 

Yarek's  mouth  set  in  a  hard  line.  "Now,"  said 
he,  low  and  very  forcibly,  "that  double  damned,  hypo- 
critical skunk ! — What 's  his  game  ? — Carew — Carew — 
I  '11  get  it  placed  if  I  think  a  while.  Janet  Carew,  the 
little  violet — and  I  believe  it's  a  real  one  too,  in  spite 
of  appearances.  But,  God,  what  eyes! — one  could 
drown  in  them."  His  face  had  darkened,  and  the 
vein  in  his  forehead  swelled ;  then  he  shrugged  his  big 
shoulders.  "Twenty  minutes  of  my  precious  time 
gone,"  he  said. 


II. 

VAREK  SEEKS  INFORMATION 

THE  next  was  a  busy  day  at  Varek 's,  and  Janet 
Carew  scarcely  left  her  seat  at  the  typewriter.  Varek 
was  in  and  out;  Ehrenstein  and  Braun,  who  formed 
the  "Co."  part  of  Varek 's  establishment,  came  and 
went  at  intervals,  casting  as  they  did  surreptitious 
glances  of  interest  at  the  new  stenographer;  there 
were  many  interviews  in  the  general  office  which  lay 
between  Varek 's  private  room  and  the  outer  office, 
but  Janet's  eyes  never  left  her  work.  Varek  was 
amused  by  her  absolute  concentration.  He  had  ques- 
tioned her  as  opportunity  occurred.  She  had  worked 
several  months  for  Mr.  Bronson,  had  done  whatever 
extra  work  there  was  in  the  office,  whatever  the  regu- 
lar and  more  experienced  stenographer  did  not  get 
through  with;  in  fact  she  had  learned  all  she  knew 
at  Bronson 's,  and  Varek  classified  it  in  his  own  mind 
as  a  "made  place." 

Then  as  skilfully  as  possible  he  tried  to  find  out  a 
little  about  herself,  and  to  his  surprise  was  made  to 
feel  much  as  he  might  have,  had  he  forgotten  himself 
and  endeavored  to  question  one  of  the  ladies  whose 
well-bred  interest  in  stocks  and  bonds  might  have  led 
them  to  his  office.  He  could  not  have  told  just  how  the 

14 


Varek  Seeks  Information 

shock  had  been  conveyed  to  him,  but  for  an  instant 
he  travelled  backward  in  time  to  the  days  when  he 
looked  on  and  did  not  possess.  He  was  again  the 
humble  office  boy  and  clerk  at  Bronson 's — a  big  step 
backwards,  and  one  he  did  not  often  take.  The  next 
moment  he  was  Leo  Varek  with  his  money  behind  him, 
and  the  little  figure  with  its  big  coil  of  wavy  hair 
was  as  deferentially  asking  him  for  directions  as  if 
that  flash  of  remembrance  had  never  had  a  cause. 
But  Varek 's  thoughts  had  been  given  a  turn  to  the 
past  and  he  pondered  over  it,  seeking  again  for  the 
recollection  that  had  evaded  him  the  day  before. 

He  asked  no  more  questions,  but  the  half -contemp- 
tuous wonder  he  had  had  all  day  as  to  his  intention 
of  granting  Bronson  "a  favor,"  ceased.  There  were 
other  ways  of  finding  out  all  he  wished  to  know ;  then 
too  he  cared  more  about  knowing  now  than  he  had. 

He  got  out  a  file  of  old  letters  and  looked  them 
over  carefully,  and  then  consulted  another  file  dated 
not  six  months  back.  They  seemed  to  merit  his  atten- 
tion, for  he  stayed  in  the  office  later  than  usual,  and 
when  he  nodded  his  brief  good-night  to  Janet  there 
was  a  veiled  interest  in  his  keen  gray  eyes.  Left  to 
himself,  he  got  out  Mr.  Bronson 's  smoothly  worded 
note  of  the  day  before,  and  his  look  went  to  the  girl's 
empty  chair  as  if  calling  up  a  vision  of  her.  His 
heavy  jaw  set  in  a  hard  line.  "We'll  see,"  he  said, 
half  aloud. 

15 


The  Winning  Chance 

He  got  up  and  put  the  papers  away,  and  swinging 
into  his  overcoat  went  out.  As  he  walked  along  he 
nodded  here  and  there  to  the  many  well-dressed  men 
who  passed  him  bound  for  their  clubs  or  homes.  More 
than  one  of  them  stinted  by  nature  in  stature  or 
robustness,  might  have  eyed  enviously  the  well- 
groomed,  upright  figure  as  it  passed  on.  In  spite  of 
weight  and  the  hair  touched  with  gray  at  the  temples, 
the  whole  man  breathed  an  alert  strength,  and  the 
reason  was  not  far  to  seek.  To  the  professional  eye, 
Varek's  physique  might  have  done  service  in  the 
ring,  and  even  now,  under  the  accumulated  flesh  of 
good  living,  the  muscles  were  powerful.  With  a  dull 
look  his  personality  would  have  been  merely  bull-like 
in  its  force,  but  his  quick  eye,  gray  as  steel,  under  his 
straight,  black  brows,  placed  him  undeniably  among 
the  keenly  intelligent. 

Turning  up  a  couple  of  blocks,  he  entered  the 
Commercial  Club,  and  giving  his  hat  and  coat  to  the 
boy  asked  carelessly,  "Any  one  in  the  library?" 

"One  or  two,  sir;  there's  been  a  meeting,  but 
they're  mostly  in  the  billiard  room  now." 

Varek  turned  into  the  billiard  room,  casting  a 
glance  into  the  library  as  he  passed.  There  was  no 
one  there  but  a  large  bald-headed  man  who  appeared 
to  be  busy  over  some  papers  at  one  of  the  tables. 
Varek  stood  near  the  door  watching  a  game  of  bil- 
liards until  a  little  gesticulating  man  who  was  doing 

16 


Varek  Seeks  Information 

the  same  joined  him.  Turning  into  the  library  then 
with  his  companion,  he  led  him  with  apparent  care- 
lessness to  one  of  the  windows  near  the  bald-headed 
man,  to  whom  he  nodded.  Then  he  ordered  drinks. 
' '  Join  us,  Bronson  ? "  he  asked. 

"Thank  you,  Varek,"  said  Mr.  Calvin  Bronson; 
"a  mint-julep  for  me,  please." 

"Now,  how  can  you  bear  those  sweet  things,  Bron- 
son," said  the  little  man.  "You'll  have  to  take  four 
months  off  each  year  if  you  make  mint-juleps  your 
steady.  See  here,  Varek,"  he  went  on,  looking  with 
impish  eyes  at  the  blandly  smiling  old  man,  much  as 
a  little  worrying  terrier  might  face  the  benign  gaze 
of  a  middle-aged  Newfoundland,  ' '  what  a  picture  for 
our  trouble-making  Press — Bronson  in  full  flight — 
coat-tails  streaming — before  the  onslaught  of  a  mint- 
julep  on  thin  legs,  with  a  background  of  animated 
real  estate — the  narrow  three-story  kind,  Bronson, 
like  those  on  lower  Pine,  say ;  they  have  an  eyes-nose- 
and-mouth  look,  legs  easily  supplied."  The  little 
man  went  into  a  convulsion  of  laughter  in  which  Varek 
joined,  though  moderately;  for  a  quick  spasm  had 
crossed  Mr.  Bronson 's  face  and  though  it  was  followed 
immediately  by  his  usual  wide,  tolerant  smile,  there 
was  no  disguising  the  dull  red  that  slowly  turned 
his  fat  neck  almost  purple. 

He  bent  suddenly  to  gather  up  his  papers,  and  the 
little  man  plunged  immediately  into  a  rattling  com- 
2  17 


The  Winning  Chance 

mentary  on  the  stock  variations  of  the  day, — a  bit  of 
gossip  about  this  deal  and  that;  then  drinking  his 
high-ball,  as  he  always  did,  at  two  gulps,  he  was  up, 
and  with  a  brief,  ' '  'By,  Varek,  ta-ta,  Bronson,  love 
calls,"  was  gone. 

"Idiotic  little  whirlwind,"  said  Varek,  laughing, 
his  cold  eye  still  on  the  fat  face  before  him. 

But  Mr.  Bronson  made  no  comment.  He  placidly 
sipped  his  julep,  looking  blandly  at  Varek  out  of  his 
rather  prominent  light  blue  eyes.  Their  underhang- 
ing  puffiness  gave  him  a  somewhat  unwholesome  look 
that  the  florid  complacency  of  the  rest  of  the  face  did 
much  to  counteract. 

They  looked  two  very  prosperous  men  in  the  warm 
glow  of  the  sinking  sun  that  flooded  in  for  a  time 
through  the  high  window. 

"I  am  glad  I  happened  to  see  you  to-day,"  said 
Varek,  finally.  "I  got  your  note,  and  wanted  to 
thank  you  for  your  offer  on  that  Whery  stock.  It 
looks  a  good  thing  to  me."  His  manner  was  perfunc- 
tory, and  the  older  man's  answer  was  as  indifferent, 
save  for  the  touch  of  pompous  graciousness  rarely 
absent  from  Mr.  Calvin  Bronson 's  dealings  with  any 
man. 

"It  is  a  good  thing,"  he  said.  "It's  the  most 
promising  local  investment,  looking  to  the  future,  that 
I  know  of.  In  my  estimation  that  stock  will  soar. 
Wait  till  next  year ;  it  is  one  of  the  things  that  in  the 
natural  course  of  events  are  sure  to  boom. ' ' 

18 


Varek  Seeks  Information 

"I  don't  believe  the  Consolidated  Electric  is  any- 
thing so  sure,"  remarked  Varek. 

"It  will  be  all  right,  too,"  said  Mr.  Bronson,  "if 
one  knows  just  when  to  pull  out  of  it,"  and  he  smiled 
at  the  other. 

"That's  what  I'-d  call  a  pure  gamble,"  said  Varek. 
"I'm  only  a  little  in,  but  thanks  for  the  hint.  I 
suppose  it  will  be  a  case  of  the  devil  take  the 
hindermost. ' ' 

They  smoked  in  silence  for  a  time,  then  Varek 
knocked  the  ash  from  his  cigar  and  looked  at  his 
watch.  "Six,"  he  said;  "I've  got  to  stop  at  the 
office  before  I  go  up  town.  By  the  way,  the  girl  who 
brought  your  note  gave  me  a  trial  day  to-day.  I  be- 
lieve I  can  use  her,  though  I  can't  do  much  more 
for  her  than  you  did,  just  odds  and  ends  and  letters, — 
but  I  suppose  you  meant  me  to  gather  that  your 
Whery  stock  had  that  string  tied  to  it  ?  I  am  not  used 
to  doing  business  that  way,  but  in  this  case  I  believe 
I  will  take  you,"  and  his  hard  eye  travelled  over  the 
older  man.  "She's  a  pretty  little  thing  and  has  a 
good  face,"  he  continued  with  a  certain  curtness, 
' '  and  she  doesn  't  seem  used  to  work  and  dresses  hard 
up — who  is  she?" 

Mr.  Bronson  moved  his  big  hand  and  turned  down 
the  leaf  of  a  magazine,  and  he  spoke  with  apparent 
reluctance.  "Yes,  she  is  hard  up,"  he  said,  "very 
hard  up — but  she  is  clever  too.  She  hasn't  starved 

19 


The  Winning  Chance 

so  far,  and  she  won't — not  with  her  face — though  she 
is  rather  inexperienced  yet.  Still — "  he  looked  up 
then  and  met  Varek 's  cutting  glance,  and  swerved 
quickly  to  another  point.  "I  really  am  relieved  that 
you  can  give  her  something  to  do  now  I  am  going 
away,  for  the  family  needs  it  badly  enough!" 

"Where  is  the  father?"  asked  Varek. 

"Dead,"  said  Calvin  Bronson.  "Poor  Denis 
Carew !  He  went  to  the  dogs  generally,  and  left  them 
without  a  penny.  They  are  Virginians,  and  come 
of  a  good  family  too,  but  they  have  no  kin  so  far  as 
I  could  discover  when  I  looked  into  their  affairs  and 
tried  to  help  them.  I  knew  their  father  slightly.  The 
mother  came  from  New  Orleans,  and  is  French.  I 
really  don't  know  when  I  have  met  a  family  so  desti- 
tute of  anybody  or  anything  in  the  way  of  assist- 
ance. ' '  Mr.  Bronson  shook  his  head  deprecatingly. 

' '  How  many  of  them  are  there  ? ' ' 

"The  mother,  a  boy,  and  this  girl,"  said  Mr.  Bron- 
son, "but  the  worst  of  it  is  that  they  are  invalids. 
The  mother  has  heart  trouble  and  is  blind,  the  result 
of  some  accident,  and  the  brother  was  hurt  at  the 
same  time.  I  don 't  know  the  rights  of  it  all,  but  the 
girl  was  responsible  for  the  accident  in  some  way,  and 
she  has  it  pretty  strongly  on  her  mind." 

"An  accumulation  of  sorrows,"  remarked  Varek, 
drily. 

"Isn't  it!" 

20 


Varek  Seeks  Information 

Varek  was  about  to  rise.  ' '  If  Mr.  Carew  had  only 
saved  them  out  a  trifle,  now,  from  the  wreck,  you 
might  not  be  looking  for  another  guardian  for  his  fam- 
ily. ' '  He  spoke  carelessly,  but  for  a  fleeting  moment 
the  muscles  of  the  florid  face  before  him  were  not 
under  perfect  control.  Then  Calvin  Bronson  looked 
down  sighing.  "Poor  Denis  Carew,"  he  said;  "he 
was  too  unpractical  for  this  life,  and  a  spendthrift 
in  the  bargain." 

"There  couldn't  be  a  worse  epitaph  for  any  man," 
said  Varek,  getting  up  briskly.  "It  affords  such 
opportunities  to  the  other  fellow.  Well,  I  must  be 
off." 

As  the  boy  helped  him  on  with  his  coat  at  the  door, 
he  noticed  that  Mr.  Varek  was  smiling;  it  wasn't  at 
any  one  in  particular,  the  boy  reflected,  and  it  wasn't 
a  very  pleasant  smile  either.  Nor  was  the  expression 
that  radiated  Mr.  Calvin  Bronson 's  broad  countenance 
as  he  passed  out  later  on,  one  of  unmixed  kindliness; 
there  was  a  certain  likeness  in  the  quality  of  the 
two  expressions. 


III. 

LIZZIE  REFLECTS 

JANET  CAREW  had  knocked  several  times  on  the 
partly  opened  door  of  Lizzie  McGinniss's  flat,  but 
Lizzie  was  admonishing  her  family  with  such  a 
vehement  flow  of  Irish  that  nothing  short  of  a  violent 
pounding  could  have  been  heard,  so,  giving  up  her 
polite  endeavors  at  last,  the  girl  pushed  the  door  a 
little  further  open  and  thrust  in  her  head.  She  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  aspect  of  the  battered,  high- 
ceilinged  room  into  which  she  looked,  and  also  with 
its  occupants,  and  her  red  lips  lifted  at  the  corners, 
her  eyes  full  of  smiling  amusement  at  the  picture 
before  her. 

At  one  side  of  the  room  stood  a  little  scraggy 
woman  whose  face  with  its  upturned  nose  and  wide 
mouth  was  almost  a  caricature  of  Irish  ugliness,  irre- 
sistibly taking  in  its  contrariety  of  expression,  for  the 
brows  and  eyelids  ludicrously  suggested  the  singeing 
effect  of  a  recent  gasoline  explosion,  over  the  comic 
aspect  of  which  her  bright  blue  eyes  seemed  to  brim 
with  laughter,  setting  at  naught  even  the  disapproval 
of  the  long  upper  lip.  They  twinkled  now  in  spite 
of  the  apparent  wrath  that  drew  the  portentous  lip 
to  a  grotesque  length,  and  Janet,  who  understood  the 
scene  perfectly,  looked  on  in  appreciative  silence. 

22 


Lizzie  Reflects 

Lizzie  was  holding  up  before  the  round  eyes  of  a 
scantily  clad  little  boy,  a  very  tattered  pair  of  trous- 
ers, and  there  was  no  lack  of  expression  in  her  lan- 
guage. "It's  th'  onthankful  villain  ye  are,"  she 
blazed.  "Is  it  th'  day  long  I'm  to  sit  here  a-sewin' 
f'r  th'  loikes  iv  ye?  Does  yer  faither  roll  in  his 
autoomobile,  an'  yer  mither  go  to  th'  theyater  in  silks, 
that  ye  think  ye  can  threet  th'  clothes  God  gave  ye 
loike  this ! "  and  Lizzie  thrust  her  skinny  hand  through 
a  ragged  hole  in  the  seat  of  the  unfortunate  breeches, 
and  pointed  a  damning  finger  at  the  bare  red  legs  of 
her  son. 

His  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  the  pointing 
finger,  and  he  gazed  a  moment  at  his  extremities  with- 
out a  change  of  expression ;  then  suddenly  his  stubby 
nose  went  up,  his  eyes  shut  tight,  and  his  mouth 
opened  a  very  gulf,  prepared  to  give  forth  such  a  roar 
as  only  Denis  McGinniss  could  accomplish — when 
Janet's  clear  voice  cried,  "boo." 

Lizzie  flew  to  the  intruder,  and  the  eyes,  nose,  and 
mouth  of  Denis  regained  their  normal  position  with 
lightning-like  rapidity,  presenting  in  repose  an  un- 
deniable resemblance  to  his  mother's  comic  features. 
The  little  woman's  eyes  were  dancing.  "Miss  Jannie, 
an'  it's  really  yersilf?"  she  cried.  "It's  ages  since 
I  set  me  eyes  on  ye,"  and  Lizzie  shook  hands,  pushed 
the  girl  into  a  chair,  and  found  one  for  herself,  all  in 
the  space  of  a  few  seconds. 

23 


The  Winning  Chance 

Janet  smiled  into  the  beaming  face  before  her. 
"I  have  wanted  to  come,  Lizzie,"  she  said,  "but  I  have 
been  so  busy  all  day,  and  you  know  I  can't  leave 
mother  and  Paul  in  the  evening.  Are  you  all  well  ? ' ' 

"We're  none  iv  us  sufferin'  but  Dinis,"  returned 
Lizzie,  her  upper  lip  lengthening  again  as  she  looked 
severely  at  her  wonderstruck  offspring.  ' '  Come  here, 
Dinis!"  she  commanded.  "Now  fur  why  shud  ye 
stand  starin'  loike  a  stuck  pig  ?  Ye  know  Miss  Jarmie 
well.  It's  th'  trial  iv  me  life  he  is,"  she  declared 
sorrowfully,  her  bright  eyes  twinkling  with  inward 
mirth,  "an'  ye '11  agree  with  me  whin  I  tell  ye  that 
in  wan  week  he's  dhrounded  himsilf  in  Mrs.  O'Harra's 
rain-barrel,  he's  lost  himsilf  entoirely  three  toimes, 
an'  that  not  bein'  enough,  he  split  his  head  yisterday 
on  th'  stove,  an'  only  jist  now  the  goat  in  th'  alley 
punched  th'  last  bit  iv  breath  out  iv  his  body,  an'  ate 
up  his  beautiful  pants ! ' ' 

"Oh,  Lizzie,"  said  the  girl,  laughing  a  little  un- 
steadily, "it  certainly  is  good  to  hear  you  again," 
and  she  gently  gathered  under  her  arm  the  round 
head  of  the  many-lived  Denis.  The  little  boy  stole 
a  quick  look  at  her,  and  moved  a  little  closer  to  her 
side ;  he  liked  the  feeling  of  the  soft  cheek  that  rubbed 
his  red  hair. 

Lizzie  looked  at  her  too  with  a  very  loving  light 
in  her  eyes.  * '  How  is  yer  mither,  and  Misther  Paul  ? ' ' 
she  asked.  "I've  thought  iv  ye  all  ivry  day." 

24 


Lizzie  Reflects 

' '  They  are  not  any  better,  Lizzie.  If  I  only  could 
think  that  mother  was  a  little  bit  stronger — it  would 
be  easier.  Mother  doesn't  go  out  of  the  rooms  even, 
any  more."  The  words  came  with  difficulty,  and 
the  girl  did  not  raise  her  head;  Denis  felt  something 
hot  roll  down  his  cheek.  There  was  a  world  of  sym- 
pathy in  the  look  Lizzie  gave  the  bent  head,  and  her 
bright  eyes  lost  their  twinkle. 

"I  know  it  well,  me  Lady-Bird,"  she  said,  softly, 
patting  the  girl's  quivering  shoulder.  "But  cryin' 
won't  mend  it,  darlin'.  It's  brave  ye  must  be,  it's 
th'  on'y  wurrud  fur  ye." 

"I  know  it.  I  am  ashamed  to  come  here  and  be  so 
silly,"  said  Janet  in  smothered  tones.  "But  I  have 
no  one  I  can  talk  to  but  you,  Lizzie." 

"An'  why  shud  ye  not,  thin!"  the  woman  an- 
swered warmly, — "me  that  loves  ye  like  wan  iv  me 
own!  It's  on'y  Mrs.  O'Harra's  parrot  an'  a  ijiot, 

that  laughs  all  th'  toime But  what  wud 

ye  say  to  a  cup  iv  tay  now,  dearie, — an'  some  cookies? 
It's  an  empty  stummick  that  makes  a  sorrowful 
wurruld — Dinis  can  tell  ye  that !  Sure,  it  was  some- 
thing whispered  me  this  mornin'  ye  wud  be  comin'," 
and  Lizzie  bustled  into  the  next  room,  only  pausing 
to  command  Denis  to  "sit  in  Mary's  petticoat  th' 
while." 

The  little  boy  evidently  understood  from  previous 
experience,  for  he  drew  himself  from  Janet's  encir- 

25 


The  Winning  Chance 

cling  arm,  and  climbing  up  on  a  chair  he  removed 
from  a  nail  on  the  wall  a  cotton-flannel  garment  that 
once  had  been  pink,  and  bringing  it  back  laid  it 
gravely  on  Janet's  knee.  As  she  bent  over  him, 
silently  assisting  him  into  it  with  shaking  hands, 
the  little  boy  studied  her  downcast  face  and  wet  eye- 
lashes, pondering  the  situation  thoughtfully  after  his 
own  fashion.  He  spoke  finally  in  a  whisper,  but  very 
positively.  "It  doesn't  laugh  all  of  the  time,"  he 
said. 

"What  doesn't,  Dennie?"  Janet  asked,  absently. 

"The  parrot." 

The  girl's  eyes  brightened,  and  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  lifted  a  little.  "Are  you  sure,  Denis?"  she 
said,  softly. 

He  cast  a  disapproving  glance  in  the  direction  of 
his  mother,  and  a  provocative  one  upward  at  Janet. 
"I've  heared  it,"  he  said;  "it  snores." 

"Does  it?" 

"Yis,  it  does — I've  heared  it.  It  snores  jist  like 
Misther  O'Harra."  Denis  laid  his  head  on  one  side 
and  closed  his  eyes.  "It  snores,  an'  it  snores,  an'  it 
snores — an'  all  at  once  it  jist  jumps  right  up  and 
says,  damn!"  and  the  little  boy  sprang  upright  in 
sudden  delight,  his  little  nose  wrinkled  and  his  eyes 
brimming  with  laughter,  an  irresistible  challenge  to 
the  girl's  sad  humor.  She  gathered  him  up  in  her 
arms,  and  her  laugh  brought  Lizzie  to  the  door. 

26 


Lizzie  Reflects 

"That  sounds  good,  dearie,"  she  said.  "Dinis, 
what  was  it  ye  was  sayin '  to  Miss  Jannie  thin  ? ' '  But 
Denis  was  not  communicative,  and  Janet  held  her 
peace.  Her  face  settled  gradually  into  its  usual  quiet 
lines,  but  she  drew  Denis's  little  chair  close  to  her 
side,  and  a  little  later  on  a  large  half  of  her  cookie 
found  its  way  into  his  capacious  mouth. 

Lizzie  had  laid  a  cloth  for  the  tea  on  the  rough 
pine  table,  and  as  she  sat  and  watched  the  color  come 
into  Janet's  tired  face  her  whole  expression  was  a 
smile  of  pleasure.  The  girl  looked  up  and  caught  it, 
and  her  own  face  broke  into  a  smile  that  made  her 
look  as  young  as  Denis.  "  It's  good,  Lizzie,"  she  said, 
gratefully ;  ' '  I  really  was  hungry,  for  I  was  working 
so  hard  all  day  that  I  forgot  about  lunch." 

"That's  no  way  to  do — to  forgit  to  eat,"  said 
Lizzie,  severely,  "an'  they've  got  no  right  to  make  ye 
wurruk  so  hard — ye 're  nothin'  but  a  little  girl  inny- 
way,"  and  the  woman's  voice  shook  with  indignation. 

"It  wasn't  anybody's  fault  but  mine,"  said  Janet 
quickly;  "I  am  stupid  about  office  work  really;  and 
if  I  am  worried  about  other  things  I  make  mistakes." 

' '  An '  what  was  throublin '  ye  thin,  dearie  ? ' ' 

Janet  sighed.  "Oh,  a  lot  of  things,  but  mostly 
about  our  rooms.  We  must  make  a  change,  Lizzie, 
and  very  soon.  They  cost  too  much,  and  I  have  such 
a  long  car  ride  going  and  coming.  Then,  too,  I  must 
find  some  one  whom  I  can  trust  who  will  keep  an  eye 

27 


The  Winning  Chance 

on  mother,  and  see  that  they  are  not  in  need  of  any- 
thing— I  am  terrified  every  day  now  that  I  leave  them 
alone,  they  are  so  helpless." 

"An'  what  did  ye  think  ye  wnd  do?"  the  woman 
questioned  anxiously.  "Movin'  costs,  or  I  wudn't 
be  stayin'  where  I  be  mesilf.  If  th'  Lord  had  on'y 
made  birds  iv  us,  or  not  to  be  too  partic'lar,  jist  inny- 
thing  that  didn't  need  a  roof  an'  cud  go  in  its  noth- 
ings, it  wud  be  savin'  us  a  good  bit  iv  throuble,  I'm 
thinkin',"  and  Lizzie  sighed  in  her  turn. 

"Birds,  yes!"  said  Janet;  "but  unfortunately 
we're  just  people.  .  .  .  I've  worried  and  worried 
over  it,  and  you  know,  Lizzie,  I  have  concluded  that 
if  those  rooms  up-stairs  are  empty  yet,  the  best  thing 
is  for  us  to  come  here." 

"Here,  Miss  Jannie!"  Lizzie  exclaimed,  in  amaze- 
ment. ' '  Ye  can 't  live  here ! ' ' 

"Yes,  we  can,  Lizzie,"  Janet  answered  positively. 
"I  think  we  must;  and  my  main  reason  is  that  you 
will  be  near  mother.  "We  can 't  afford  more  than  three 
rooms  anywhere  now,  and  I  can  do  the  work  in  them 
easily — it's  not  that  I  want  your  help  for.  It's  just 
to  have  you  near  if  mother  or  Paul  should  need  any- 
thing. That  would  not  be  a  trouble  to  you,  would 
it,  Lizzie?" 

"Ye  know  well  it  wud  be  me  pleasure,"  the  woman 
answered,  looking  thoroughly  distressed.  "But, 
dearie,  it's  a  poor  place,  this  house — an'  fur  yer 
mither  too." 

28 


Lizzie  Reflects 

"Oh,  I  know,  I  know  what  you  mean,  but,  Lizzie, 
I  have  no  pride  left  about  those  things.  We  are 
dreadfully  hard  up,  and  if  I  can  just  keep  a  roof 
over  their  heads,  and  a  fire  for  them  to  sit  by,  and  a 
little  good  food — it's  all  I  ask.  It  is  dirty  here,  I 
know — the  halls  and  stairways — but  it  is  cheap  and 

near  you "    The  girl  reached  over  and  slipped 

her  hand  into  the  woman's.  "Lizzie,  I  am  dreadfully 
worried,  and  I  cannot  think  of  anything  better  to 
do — can  you?" 

Lizzie  looked  into  the  girl's  big  troubled  eyes  and 
sat  thinking  for  a  time.  "That  Misther  Bronson  that 
ye  wurruk  for,"  she  asked,  finally,  "he  was  a  friend 
iv  yer  faither,  won't  he  lend  ye  jist  a  little  hilpin' 
hand,  Miss  Jannie?" 

"He  is  going  away,  to  Europe,"  said  Janet,  with 
a  quick  flush.  "He  arranged  for  me  to  get  another 
position,  and  Monday  I  begin  regularly.  With  the 
little  experience  I  have  had  I  am  fortunate.  But, 
Lizzie,  after  this  we  must  live  on  what  I  earn.  There 
is  no  help  coming  from  anywhere." 

"Well  thin,"  said  Lizzie,  with  a  sigh,  "ye  are 
sinsible  to  thry  and  save  all  ye  can,  but  I  wud  loike  a 
better  home  fur  ye." 

"A  palace,  perhaps,"  said  Janet,  smiling. 
"Lizzie,  take  me  up  to  see  those  rooms,  will  you?" 

"We    must    get    thim    keys    thin,"    said    Lizzie. 
"Hist,  Mary,"  she  called  to  a  little  girl  who  had  just 

29 


The  Winning  Chance 

come  into  the  back  room,  "don't  ye  wake  th'  baby 
now.  Come  in  here,  darlin'.  Now  jist  ye  rin  up  to 
Mrs.  O'Harra  and  ask  her  fur  th'  keys  to  th'  up- 
stairs— but  spake  to  Miss  Jannie  furst,  can't  ye  ?  It's 
yer  manners  ye've  lost,  I'm  thinkin'." 

Janet  patted  the  cheek  of  the  little  girl  who  looked 
up  shyly  at  her  through  her  mane  of  brown  hair. 
Mary  was  the  annual  step  taller  than  Denis,  and 
a  pretty  child.  Mary  and  Patty  were  twins,  then 
came  Denis  and  the  baby.  "The  baby  must  have 
grown  even  since  I  saw  him  last,"  said  Janet.  "He 
will  be  walking  about  soon,  won 't  he,  Lizzie  ? ' ' 

"Yis,"  said  the  woman,  resignedly,  "jist  whin 
I  '11  be  hilpless  on  me  back.  There 's  anither  comin '  in 
January,  Miss  Jannie." 

"Oh,  Lizzie,"  said  the  girl  in  consternation,  and 
then  added  quickly,  "I  will  be  here  to  help  you  then." 

"Me  Lady-Bird!"  said  the  woman,  with  a  bright 
look,  "don't  ye  be  after  throuble  too  soon.  It'll  be 
toime  enough  when  it's  yer  own.  But  it's  not  I  that's 
grievin'.  I  love  th'  childher.  If  Patrick  kapes  his 
place,  an'  th'  Lord  spares  us  sickness,  I  have  a  light 
heart  in  me  body." 

Mary  now  came  with  the  keys  and  Lizzie  led  the 
way  into  the  hall  and  upstairs.  The  house  was  very 
old  and,  at  one  time,  had  been  the  residence  of  a  well- 
to-do  family,  but  it  stood  now  surrounded  by  tene- 
ments as  did  a  number  of  large  old  houses  in  that 

30 


Lizzie  Reflects 

neighborhood.  Some  enterprising  owners  had  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  turning  the  three  floors  into  flats  to 
meet  the  needs  of  the  steadily  encroaching  slums,  and 
now  these  old  homes,  once  so  stately,  that  during 
the  transition  period  had  been  a  dead  loss,  were  fair 
income-bearing  property.  It  was  a  thoroughly  por- 
erty-stricken  section,  hovering  on  the  edge  of  one  of 
the  worst  slums  of  the  city,  but  not  yet  engulfed. 

The  hallway  was  deep  and  the  stairs  wide  and 
dimly  lighted,  for  the  big  stained-glass  window  on  the 
landing,  that  in  its  grandest  days  east  but  a  subdued 
light,  was  now  so  obscured  by  dust  and  grime  as  to  be 
practically  worthless  as  a  light-giving  medium.  Per- 
haps that  was  the  reason  the  big  front  doors  stood 
open  all  day  and  most  of  the  night. 

Lizzie  stopped  on  the  second  floor  and  opened  the 
door  of  the  front  room.  A  close,  musty  smell  of  stale 
cooking  greeted  them,  but  they  folded  back  the  bat- 
tered Venetian  blinds  and  raised  a  window,  letting  in 
air  and  the  western  sunshine.  Janet  looked  eagerly 
about  her.  This  house,  like  most  of  its  period,  was 
three  rooms  deep,  each  opening  into  the  other,  and 
each  having  a  door  into  the  hall.  The  smoke-black- 
ened ceilings  were  very  high,  the  windows  narrow  and 
tall,  and  there  was  a  heavy  cornice  that  once  had  been 
elaborately  decorated.  The  walls,  like  Lizzie's,  down- 
stairs, were  scratched  and  dirty.  Janet  sighed  as  she 
looked,  but  she  spoke  decidedly. 

31 


The  Winning  Chance 

"I  will  take  them,  Lizzie." 

"Ye  know  best,"  said  the  woman.  "I  wud  turn 
thim  into  a  beautiful  palace  if  I  had  th'  rinnin'  iv  th' 
wurruld. ' ' 

A  four-story  tenement  shut  out  all  light  from  the 
side  windows,  but  the  sun  could  still  look  into  the  front 
and  back  rooms,  and  Janet  made  her  plans.  "Mother 
can  have  the  front  and  Paul  the  back  room,  and  the 
middle  room  will  have  to  be  the  kitchen,  though  it 
is  dreadfully  dark.  .  .  .  Lizzie,  I  believe  I  can 
make  them  comfortable  here." 

"As  usual  ye  are  not  namin'  a  spot  fur  yersilf, 
I  notice,"  Lizzie  remarked,  but  Janet  was  too  much 
occupied  to  pay  attention.  The  back  room  had  an 
unsightly  pile  of  rubbish,  beer-bottles,  cardboard 
boxes,  and  tins  in  one  corner,  and  Janet  was  looking  at 
them  with  disapproval. 

"I  am  coming  to-morrow  to  clean  up,"  she  an- 
nounced. "It  is  Sunday  and  I  can  work  all  day. 
Lizzie,  soap  and  water  and  air  will  make  a  mighty 
difference  here." 

"I'll  be  a-hilpin'  ye  thin,"  said  Lizzie,  firmly. 
"Ye  may  do  th'  sweepin',  but  ye '11  not  be  at  th'  scrub 
wurruk.  Thim  pretty  hands  in  scrub  water!  Ye '11 
fair  drive  me  wild;"  and  all  the  shocked  anxiety 
that  the  woman  had  been  trying  to  hide,  spoke  in  her 
tones. 

Janet  turned  and  caught  her  by  the  shoulders,  her 
32 


Lizzie  Reflects 

face  quivering,  half  laughter,  half  tears.  "Lizzie, 
Lizzie, ' '  she  said,  ' '  listen  to  me.  You  must  understand 
now,  and  once  for  all,  that  I  am  not  the  little  girl  you 
used  to  know.  I  am  just  a  hard-working  woman,  like 
you,  like  the  others  in  this  house.  I  have  no  more 
right  to  impose  upon  you  than  they,  and  I  will  not 
come  here  and  put  another  burden  on  your  shoulders. 
If  you  will  just  understand  this,  and  not  fret  about 
me,  I  shall  go  away  this  evening  much  happier  than 
I  have  been  for  weeks.  There  are  things  that  look  a 
good  deal  worse  to  me  than  hard  work."  The  girl 
was  drawing  her  breath  quickly,  half  sobbing. 

"Me  darlin',"  said  the  woman,  the  whole  warm 
heart  of  her  in  her  voice,  "it's  anythin'  in  th'  wurruld 
ye  may  tell  me  an'  111  believe  ye ;  an'  ye  may  do  what 
ye  plaze  an'  I'll  not  hinder  ye;  but  if  it's  askin'  me 
to  stop  lovin'  ye,  ye  are — that  I'll  not  do,"  and 
Lizzie  was  crying  in  earnest  now. 

"Oh,  my!"  said  Janet,  laughter  uppermost  now, 
"here  we  are  like  two  geese  crying  over  nothing. 
Lizzie,  don't.  It's  my  birthday  to-day;  do  you  know 
it?  I  am  twenty — think  of  it!  Come  wish  me  good 
luck,  and  let's  go  down  to  the  children.  You  silly 
little  thing!" 

"Well  thin,"  said  Lizzie,  recovering  herself  with 

Irish   promptitude,   "ye 're  not   a  Misthress   Goliah 

yersilf,  that  ye  shud  be  spakin'  scornful  of  me  size;" 

and  they  went  down,  and  Janet  effectually  banished 

3  33 


The  Winning  Chance 

tears.  She  told  the  delighted  Mary,  Patty,  and  Denis 
a  story  that  doubled  up  their  little  bodies  with 
laughter.  She  mimicked  the  colored  lady  who  wished 
to  buy  a  fan  of  the  grand-looking  floor-walker,  and 
couldn't  remember  what  it  was  called. 

"  '  Oh !  my  mighty  man,  don'  you  know, 
Et's  a  Sunday-go-to-meetin'  thing, 
That  goes  jes'  so!  "' 

quoted  Janet  with  the  true  darky  swing,  but  it  was 
lightly  and  daintily  done,  and  Mr.  Leo  Varek,  of 
Varek  &  Co.,  would  have  opened  his  eyes  wide,  had  he 
seen  the  vivid  face  of  his  quiet  little  stenographer. 

"Arrah,  an'  ye 're  nothin'  but  a  child  loike  th' 
rist,"  said  Lizzie,  drawing  breath  after  her  laugh. 

"Yes,  and  Irish  too,"  answered  the  girl.  "I'm 
not  a  Carew  for  nothing,  Lizzie  dear." 

Janet  had  gone,  but  the  puzzled  and  troubled  look 
came  back  to  Lizzie's  face  and  did  not  leave  it.  Try 
as  she  would,  she  could  not  adapt  herself  to  the  new 
aspect  of  things.  That  Mr.  Carew  had  lost  his 
money,  and  that  Janet  was  working  to  support  the 
family,  Lizzie  knew  well  enough,  but  her  imagination 
had  never  separated  them  from  the  very  comfortable 
surroundings  that  had  been  theirs. 

She  had  been  their  servant  in  New  York  during  the 
time  that  Mrs.  Carew  and  Paul  had  been  there  under 

34 


Lizzie  Reflects 

treatment.  It  was  after  the  accident  that  had  brought 
them  all  such  trouble,  and  little  Janet  had  told  Lizzie 
the  whole  story. 

' '  It  was  all  my  fault, ' '  the  child  had  said,  her  thin 
little  body  quivering.  "I  made  them  let  me  drive 
and  it  frightened  the  horses."  They  had  all  been 
thrown  out,  and  of  the  three  Janet  had  escaped  in- 
jury. Mrs.  Carew  had  struck  her  head  and  for  some 
time  they  had  thought  she  could  not  live.  Paul, 
a  nervous,  delicate  child,  appeared  at  first  to  have 
fared  better,  but  as  time  went  on,  what  had  seemed 
to  be  only  a  badly  wrenched  back  developed  into 
something  more  serious.  The  country  doctor  began 
to  shake  his  head  over  the  pale,  big-eyed  boy  who  lay 
helpless  so  long. 

At  the  words  "spinal  trouble,"  Mr.  Carew  took 
fright  and  brought  them  all  to  New  York.  What  doc- 
tors could  do  for  them  was  done,  but  it  was  poor 
comfort  they  gave.  Mrs.  Carew  was  to  face  the  pros- 
pect of  failing  sight,  for  this  peculiar  result  of  her 
accident  had  already  begun  to  manifest  itself,  and  for 
Paul  the  future  was  scarcely  more  promising.  At 
least  it  seemed  so  to  him,  and  one  of  the  first  thoughts 
that  entered  and  settled  in  Paul's  mind  when  he 
realized  that  he  might  be  a  life-long  cripple,  was  a 
bitter  resentment  against  Janet. 

All  their  lives  there  had  been  little  in  common  be- 
tween the  two  children.  There  was  only  a  year's  dif- 

35 


The  Winning  Chance 

ference  in  their  ages,  but  the  reserved,  sensitive  boy, 
living  much  in  his  imagination,  had  no  understanding 
of  Janet's  high-strung  temperament.  Underlying  his 
frequent  sense  of  irritation  toward  her,  was  a  gnawing 
jealousy.  From  babyhood  she  had  turned  to  love 
as  naturally  as  a  flower  to  the  sun,  and  just  as  natur- 
ally it  had  warmed  and  sheltered  her,  but  Paul  had 
often  felt  cold.  Aided  by  this  bitterness  of  spirit, 
Paul 's  conviction  of  his  real  condition  settled  into  the 
adamant  that  was  all  unsuspected  by  those  about 
him,  a  fundamental  part  of  his  composition.  From 
her  mother  Janet  had  never  had  a  reference  to  her 
part  in  the  fearful  accident;  she  would  never  have 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  and  for  a  long  time  she  had 
no  suspicion  of  what  the  child  was  suffering ;  but  not 
so  Paul. 

Lizzie  had  found  the  little  girl  one  day  crouched 
in  her  room,  purple  and  choking,  beside  herself  with 
misery  and  self-reproach.  Bit  by  bit  Lizzie  had  got 
the  truth  from  her.  Paul  had  hardly  spoken  to  her 
since  his  hurt.  In  every  loving  way  she  had  tried 
to  show  him  her  sympathy  and  that  day  he  had 
turned  on  her.  "Leave  me  alone!"  he  had  screamed 
at  her.  "You  did  it.  Get  out  of  my  sight ! ' ' 

With  every  reasoning  power  she  possessed  Lizzie 
had  tried  to  comfort  the  agonized  little  soul,  but  it  was 
the  pressure  of  her  arms  and  the  loving  sympathy  of 
the  Irish  girl's  warm  heart,  that  was  the  real  solace. 

36 


Lizzie  Reflects 

From  that  day  in  spite  of  his  very  evident  suffer- 
ing Lizzie  despised  Paul  Carew.  Mrs.  Carew  she  truly 
pitied,  but  Janet  she  loved  with  every  bit  of  her.  Mr. 
Carew  she  regarded  much  as  she  did  her  own  Carews 
of  Conalty.  Her  great-grandfathers  had  pulled  their 
forelocks,  and  her  grandams  had  courtesied,  to  them 
for  generations.  Set  Mr.  Carew  beside  the  Conalty 
Carews  in  their  own  hall  and  he  would  be  one  of 
them;  the  very  portraits  would  recognize  him,  for 
three  generations  didn't  make  much  difference.  His 
great-grandfather  had  been  a  Conalty  Carew,  he  told 
Lizzie,  and  his  own  father  had  ridden  to  hounds  and 
drunk  himself  under  the  table  in  Virginia,  just  as  did 
his  several-times-removed  cousin  in  Ireland.  And 
the  same  qualities  of  openhanded  generosity,  love  of 
adventure,  and  passion  for  the  game  of  chance  that 
had  wasted  away  the  birthright  of  the  Carews  of  Con- 
alty, had  wasted  away  Janet's. 

The  Carews  had  gone  sadly  back  to  their  quiet 
home  in  Virginia,  and  Janet  had  taken  up  her  task  of 
caring  for  the  helpless,  the  feeling  of  her  own  re- 
sponsibility heavy  upon  her.  She  was  eyes  to  her 
mother,  and  hands  and  feet  to  Paul,  and  thought  for 
herself  lost  its  place  in  her  life.  If  she  ever  forgot, 
Paul  proved  an  effective  reminder.  It  was  a  hard 
school,  and  she  learned  to  think  and  not  speak,  to 
endure  and  show  little  sign,  and  to  hide  timidity  and 
sensitiveness  under  a  controlled  exterior. 

37 


The  Winning  Chance 

Lizzie  had  married  her  Patrick  and  come  West,  but 
she  and  Janet  had  never  forgotten  each  other,  and 
strangely  enough  they  had  come  into  touch  again. 
Mr.  Carew  had  gone  to  that  place  where  one  is  sup- 
posed to  answer  for  one's  own  sins  and  not  for  those 
of  one's  forebears,  and  his  family  were  strangers  in  a 
strange  city.  They  had  come  to  Mr.  Calvin  Bronson 
in  the  hope  of  possibly  getting  back  some  fragment  of 
their  squandered  possessions,  for  he  appeared  to  be 
the  only  man  who  knew  anything  at  all  about  Mr. 
Carew 's  financial  ventures.  During  the  last  two  years 
Mr.  Carew  had  spent  less  and  less  time  with  his 
family,  and  they  knew  practically  nothing  of  his 
life  away  from  them.  He  had  spoken  vaguely  of 
large  sums  he  was  about  to  make,  but  his  remittances 
had  dwindled  to  nothing.  When  he  had  at  last  re- 
turned to  them  he  was  a  fatally  stricken  man,  and 
beyond  speech. 

Mr.  Bronson 's  sympathy  for  them  was  warmly 
expressed,  and  he  set  promptly  to  work  in  an  endeavor 
to  untangle  the  complicated  skein  of  Mr.  Carew 's 
affairs.  It  proved  hopeless,  for  there  was  absolutely 
nothing  left;  their  longed-for  fragment  was  denied 
them,  and  they  faced  abject  poverty.  In  their  help- 
lessness and  distress  Mr.  Bronson  had  shown  them 
every  consideration  and  kindness,  and  his  final  offer 
of  a  place  for  Janet  in  his  office  was  a  bit  of  fortune 
she  had  eagerly  accepted. 

38 


Lizzie  Reflects 

And  as  Lizzie  cooked  her  simple  supper  and  waited 
for  her  man,  she  tried  to  realize  that  the  little  Janet, 
whose  father  was  a  Carew  of  Conalty  if  ever  there  was 
one,  would  to-morrow  scrub  her  own  floor  just  as 
Lizzie  herself  did.  Six  years  or  so  of  American  inde- 
pendence does  much  to  instil  the  idea  of  equality  in 
the  immigrant  mind,  but  an  Irish  peasant  girl  does  not 
lose  all  her  early  training  at  once,  and  to  Lizzie  there 
was  something  altogether  wrong  in  the  arrangements 
of  Providence. 


IV. 

A  LOWERING  SKY 

IT  was  five  o'clock  and  already  growing  dark, 
when  Janet  came  out  of  Varek's  and  hurried  off 
toward  home.  All  day  the  snow-clouds  had  hung  low, 
gathering  under  them,  as  under  a  wet  blanket,  the 
black  volumes  of  smoke  belched  upward  out  of  thou- 
sands of  grimy  chimneys.  There  was  no  wind  to 
stir  the  smoke,  and  the  flakes  of  soot  fell  softly, 
gathering  in  little  ridges  in  every  corner,  or  were 
swept  here  and  there  by  the  quickly  moving  throng. 
No  one  cared  to  stand  still  that  day — it  was  so  cold — • 
a  damp,  sodden  sort  of  cold,  that  found  the  very 
marrow. 

Thanksgiving  day  had  dawned  in  an  almost  In- 
dian-summer warmth,  but  had  closed  in  a  whirl  of 
snow  and  wind,  and  the  smiling  days  of  autumn  were 
over.  Slush  and  ice,  wind  and  snow,  and  many 
such  gloomy  days  as  the  one  just  drawing  to  a  close, 
had  filled  up  the  time  until  Christmas,  and  old  Mis- 
sourians  predicted  an  unusually  cold  winter.  The 
poor  heard  it  with  dread,  and  the  well-to-do  put  up 
storm-doors  and  laid  in  a  plentiful  supply  of  coal. 

Janet  determined  to  walk  as  long  as  she  could 
stand  the  cold,  for  she  had  learned  to  take  every 

40 


A  Lowering  Sky 

opportunity  offered  her  for  exercise.  She  was  bent 
on  trying  to  husband  the  strength  left  her  after  the 
demands  of  the  working  day,  and  above  all  to  keep 
well.  Night  after  night  now,  when  she  entered  the 
dark  hall  and  climbed  the  gloomy  stairway  of  the 
place  she  called  home,  she  took  up  a  burden  much 
heavier  than  any  work  required  at  Varek's,  for  things 
had  not  gone  well  with  the  Carews.  Mrs.  Carew  had 
been  very  ill  after  the  winter  set  in,  and  the  mending 
had  been  very  slow,  so  slow  that  Janet  had  almost 
despaired  of  her  gaining  back  strength  enough  to 
move  about  their  rooms.  She  was  more  helpless  than 
Paul  now,  for  she  could  not  even  read. 

As  Janet  hurried  along  it  was  of  Paul  she  was 
thinking.  He  was  a  goad  that  touched  the  very  quick 
of  her.  Day  after  day  he  sat  in  his  wheeling-chair,  to 
her  always  reserved  and  cold,  lifting  no  edge  of  the 
curtain  that  hid  from  her  what  might  be  passing  in 
his  mind.  The  only  look  of  pleasure  she  could  ever 
win  from  him,  was  when  she  laid  some  book  or 
magazine  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  then  it  was  not 
for  her,  Janet  knew,  but  for  what  she  brought. 
Reading  was  his  passion,  and  his  taste  ran  in  strange 
channels. 

A  long  time  before,  Janet  and  her  mother  had 
found  that  the  boy  was  poring  over  the  remnant 
of  a  medical  library  that  had  in  some  way  become 
part  of  the  Carew  possessions,  and  ever  since  he  had 

41 


The  Winning  Chance 

manifested  the  keenest  interest  in  medical  literature ; 
not  as  a  study,  Janet  concluded  after  long  observation, 
but  with  a  morbid  craving  to  brood  over  the  sufferings 
and  abnormalities  to  which  flesh  is  heir.  It  was  hor- 
rid to  her,  this  conclusion,  and  she  carefully  kept  it 
from  her  mother,  as  she  endeavored  to  keep  from  her 
everything  that  was  painful.  But  the  fact  remained, 
that  this  was  the  only  joy  left  to  the  pale,  sharp- 
featured  boy,  who  for  more  than  two  years  now  had 
been  able  to  do  no  more  than  drag  himself,  by  aid 
of  his  crutches,  from  his  bed  to  his  chair,  and  only 
occasionally  from  one  room  to  another. 

Much  as  she  hated  it,  Janet  was  forced  out  of  very 
pity  for  his  long  weary  days,  to  supply  him  with 
this  sort  of  reading  matter.  New  books  or  journals 
had  become  much  too  expensive  for  her  meagre  purse, 
but  she  knew  every  second-hand  book-store  in  the  city 
by  this  time,  and  on  their  dusty  shelves,  or  tucked 
away  in  some  black  corner,  she  often  found  what  she 
wanted. 

This  evening  she  stopped  at  a  shabby  little  news- 
stand that  she  passed  every  day  on  her  walk  up  and 
down  North  Broadway.  Squeezing  herself  between 
the  two  or  three  rough  tables  that  stood  practically  on 
the  sidewalk,  she  made  her  way  into  the  narrow 
passage  beyond.  It  was  a  queer  place  and  had  evi- 
dently once  been  the  hallway  of  a  house.  The  rest  of 
the  place  had  been  put  to  other  uses  and  given  an- 

42 


A  Lowering  Sky 

other  entrance,  but  the  bent  old  man  who  crouched 
over  the  hot  stove  at  the  end  of  the  passage  had  found 
a  way  of  utilizing  this  bit  of  space.  The  walls  on 
either  side  were  lined  with  shelves  from  the  ceiling 
to  the  floor;  they  were  so  crammed  and  heaped  with 
books  that  Janet  when  she  entered  here  always  looked 
up,  dreading  an  avalanche  of  dusty  volumes.  The 
shelves  stopped  a  few  feet  from  the  stove,  leaving 
an  open  space,  and  here  were  two  chairs  and  a  table — 
a  sort  of  sitting-room  for  old  Hedrick. 

Janet  had  often  been  here  and  for  a  few  cents  had 
picked  up  bits  of  reading  matter.  Old  Hedrick  knew 
a  lot  about  books,  the  latest  as  well  as  the  oldest,  and 
on  the  pleasant  autumn  evenings  when  she  had  a 
half-hour  to  spare,  she  would  spend  it  gladly,  listen- 
ing to  him.  As  he  came  to  know  her  better,  he  often 
loaned  her  books,  and  she  had  finally  confided  to  him 
the  reason  of  her  constant  quest  for  medical  literature. 

"I  was  afraid  it  was  for  yourself  you  wanted  it," 
he  had  said,  peering  at  her  from  under  his  white 
brows.  "I  should  hate  to  see  you  with  a  fancy  like 
that." 

He  was  an  unusual  looking  old  man,  bent  and  thin, 
with  a  head  of  snow-white  hair  that  contrasted 
strangely  with  his  brilliant  dark  eyes.  Age  had  not 
dimmed  them,  and  there  was  something  compelling 
in  their  intent  gaze,  but  Janet  had  an  instinctive 
recognition  for  genuine  kindliness,  and  she  had  under- 

43 


The  Winning  Chance 

stood  the  look  he  gave  her.     From  that  day  Paul  had 
been  supplied. 

To-night  she  was  stopping  for  some  of  the  journals, 
and  the  old  man  looked  keenly  at  her  as  he  prepared 
to  give  her  the  package.  "You  better  sit  there  by  the 
fire  a  minute,"  he  said,  gravely.  "You  look  nearly 
done.  I  know  the  look."  Under  the  flaring  gas-jet 
she  looked  pinched  and  blue. 

His  manner  moved  her  strangely,  and  she  was 
drawn  to  stay.  To  be  able  to  tell  even  this  bent  old 
man  a  little  of  the  wretched  anxieties  that  awaited 
her  at  home  would  be  a  relief;  it  might  leave  her 
somewhat  more  courage  to  face  that  worse  fear  that 
had  begun  to  sit  daily  beside  her  at  the  office.  At  least 
such  a  thought  crossed  her  mind — but  time,  where  was 
the  time  to  talk?  She  was  needed  at  home  at  that 
moment. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  said,  "I  must  go;"  but  she 
gave  him  the  pretty  smile  that  she  always  had  for  him, 
even  if  it  were  only  as  she  hurried  by.  She  took  the 
package  and  went  on  her  way,  her  thoughts  for 
company. 

It  was  at  the  beginning  of  December  that  Mrs. 
Carew  had  been  taken  ill,  and  Janet's  November 
salary,  already  depleted  by  absolutely  necessary  pur- 
chases for  their  winter  comfort,  was  gone  in  a  week. 
There  had  been  medicines  to  buy,  the  doctor  to  pay, 
and  coal,  coal,  always  coal.  Those  had  been  bad  days 
for  her,  for  they  had  been  in  want. 

44 


A  Lowering  Sky 

"White  and  sick  with  sleeplessness  and  anxiety,  the 
girl  had  crept  to  her  work  at  the  office,  and  Varek, 
who  had  come  to  watch  every  change  in  her  face  with 
an  interest  that  grew  keener  as  time  went  on,  judged 
its  expression  correctly.  Almost  without  knowing  it, 
Janet  had  allowed  him  to  draw  from  her  the  story  of 
her  mother 's  illness.  He  did  not  ask  her  if  they  were 
in  need,  nor  did  she  tell  him,  but  he  had  said  in  his 
incisive  way,  "You  ought  to  have  told  me  before. 
Now  I  know  from  some  pretty  sharp  experiences  that 
a  penny  in  time  is  sometimes  worth  nine  thousand 
too  late — so  I  am  going  to  hand  you  your  salary  for 
this  month  right  now.  Use  it  and  don't  worry — 
there's  plenty  more  where  that  came  from,"  he  said, 
as  Janet,  pink  with  relief,  tried  to  thank  him.  She 
did  not  find  words,  but  the  light  in  her  eyes,  into  which 
Varek  looked  rather  hungrily,  was  more  than  words. 

But  in  the  joy  of  knowing  that  that  night's  supper 
lay  in  her  hand,  she  forgot  a  few  things.  More  than 
once  they  had  made  her  turn  restlessly  on  her  pillow. 
They  had  been  scarcely  tangible,  but  she  could  not 
brush  away  the  impressions.  She  had  been  supersen- 
sitive,  she  told  herself,  since  that  unspeakable  day 
when  she  had  stood  at  bay  in  Bronson's  inner  office. 
Every  inch  of  her  body  burned,  as  the  disgust,  con- 
tempt, and  fury  she  had  felt,  swept  over  her  in 
recollection. 

He  had  shot  a  bolt  out  of  a  clear  sky,  that  Thing, 
45 


The  Winning  Chance 

with  its  livid  face  and  bald  head,  that  had  called  itself 
her  father's  friend,  and  had  dared,  dared  to  say  to  her 
what  it  did,  making  itself  more  persistently  plain 
to  her  ignorance  and  innocence.  With  every  drop 
of  her  blood  boiling  she  had  faced  him,  the  Irish 
tongue  of  her  father  and  the  facile  French  inheritance 
of  her  mother  lending  her  their  aid.  Then  she  had 
seen  him  droop  and  wilt,  all  the  pompous  pretense 
gone — just  a  withered,  bad  old  man. 

The  moments  that  had  followed  Janet  would  never 
forget.  As  she  stood,  her  anger  cooling  into  a  settled 
loathing,  she  heard  repeated  again  and  again  the 
abject  apology  for  his  words.  It  was  useless  to  ask 
her  to  forget,  but  as  the  minutes  passed,  the  cunning 
of  a  mind  rarely  at  a  loss  reasserted  itself,  and  Janet 
found  herself  listening  to  the  story  of  a  bit  of  her 
father's  life  that  none  but  this  man  knew. 

"You  are  capable  of  lying  to  me,"  said  the  girl. 
"I  do  not  believe  what  you  are  telling  me." 

Then  he  laid  before  her  a  packet  of  letters,  and 
Janet  knew  that  he  was  telling  her  the  truth.  She 
could  bear  that  knowledge,  for  she  must,  but  her 
mother  could  not. 

"Why  have  you  shown  these  to  me?"  she  asked, 
looking  him  in  the  eye,  and  he  answered  smoothly, 
"Because  you  said  I  was  no  friend  of  your  father's, 
and  there  you  wronged  me.  I  have  shielded  him,  I 
shielded  him  for  years.  I  saw  that  no  hint  of  it  ever 

46 


A  Lowering  Sky 

reached  your  mother's  ears.  You  had  a  right  to  say 
to  me  what  you  did — there  are  few  men,  Janet,  that 
are  not  mad  for  a  moment  some  time  in  their  lives; 
when  you  are  older  you  will  know  it  better.  Never 
as  long  as  I  live  will  I  forgive  myself ;  but  in  spite  of 
it,  I  tell  you  I  have  had  your  father's  interests,  your 
mother's,  and  yours  always  at  heart." 

Behind  the  white  mask  of  her  face  Janet  was  think- 
ing, and  the  man  before  her  saw  it.  He  waited  a 
little,  then,  "These  letters,"  he  said,  slowly,  tap- 
ping them  where  they  lay  under  his  hand — "these 
letters  would  kill  your  mother. ' ' 

The  girl's  eyes  asked  him  the  question  her  lips 
would  not,  and  he  answered,  "I  want  you  to  forget 
to-day.  Let  us  wipe  it  out.  I  will  keep  out  of  your 
way,  and  I  want  you  to  come  to  the  office  as  usual. 
Your  leaving  would  only  cause  comment,  and  your 
mother,  whom  we  both  want  to  shield,  would  wonder. 
I  am  going  to  Europe  before  long,  and  when  I  go  I 
will  find  a  place  for  you;  not  one  you  will  feel  any 
necessity  of  keeping,  however,  if  you  do  not  wish. 
After  what  has  passed  I  feel  that  I  owe  you  every 
consideration. ' ' 

His  flow  of  words  stopped  at  last,  and  Janet  an- 
swered him  steadily.  "Very  well — may  I  go  now?" 
He  unlocked  the  door  and  she  passed  out,  but  she  went 
oblivious  of  his  proffered  hand.  He  kept  his  word; 
her  mother  was  left  in  peace,  and  she  had  done  her 

47 


The  Winning  Chance 

work  as  usual,  but  her  faith  in  much  that  she  would 
as  soon  have  thought  of  questioning  as  any  of  the 
settled  facts  of  nature,  was  gone. 

That  men  were  given  their  strength  to  protect 
weakness,  not  to  prey  upon  it,  had  been  a  part  of  her 
creed.  That  henceforth  she  must  go  armed,  not  only 
to  win  her  daily  bread,  but  also  to  keep  unsullied  her 
womanhood,  was  a  new  thought  to  her.  Hers  was  not 
a  silly  or  a  stupid  brain,  and,  except  when  too  hard 
driven  by  anxiety  for  those  she  loved,  very  clear- 
sighted. As  she  observed  life  about  her  she  began 
to  have  a  fuller  understanding  of  the  natural  tempta- 
tions that  come  to  men  and  to  women  as  well,  and 
she  saw  daily  the  ever-compelling  power  of  money. 
Janet  had  learned  her  first  unlovely  lesson,  and  it 
left  her  doubtful  and  timid. 

It  frightened  and  oppressed  her,  as  did  the  huge 
buildings,  and  the  hurrying  crowds — as  did  Varek 
the  first  day  she  entered  his  office.  His  air  of  unop- 
posed power,  the  strength  of  his  big  body,  and  the 
knife-like  glance  of  his  eye,  all  made  her  feel  infinitely 
small  and  helpless;  he  appeared  to  her  to  personify 
the  hardness  and  unscrupulousness  of  the  street.  Her 
determination  to  make  of  herself  just  a  bit  of  office 
furniture,  a  mere  machine,  was  only  strengthened; 
in  so  far  as  she  could  she  would  cease  to  be  a 
personality,  and  thus  she  might  escape  notice.  That 
Varek  would  quickly  seek  to  dominate  anything,  even 

48 


A  Lowering  Sky 

a  stenographer,  that  in  anywise  obtruded  itself,  she 
felt  quite  certain. 

To  her  infinite  relief  he  had  met  her  fully  half  way 
in  her  endeavor  to  efface  herself.  He  gave  her  plenty 
to  do  in  a  perfectly  businesslike  manner ;  in  the  time 
they  spent  together,  he  at  his  desk,  she  at  hers,  he 
attempted  only  the  most  casual  conversation ;  she  was 
conscious  of  the  comprehensive  scrutiny  that  he  fre- 
quently bestowed  upon  her,  but  his  interest  was  not 
expressed  in  words,  and  she  strove  not  to  notice  it. 
To  go  quietly  in  and  out,  to  do  her  day's  work  well, 
and  give  satisfaction,  was  all  she  wanted.  Her  inter- 
ests were  back  in  that  high-ceilinged  room  with  its 
two  occupants,  and  when  she  rose  from  her  desk  in 
the  evening  it  was  with  the  one  wish  to  get  back 
to  them  as  soon  as  possible. 

It  had  annoyed  her  that  Braun  and  Ehrenstein 
had  both  tried  to  engage  her  in  conversation.  Varek 
had  come  in  suddenly  one  day,  and  found  Ehrenstein 
lounging  by  her  desk.  He  had  come  into  Varek 's 
private  office  with  a  question  that  Janet  knew  was 
nothing  but  an  excuse,  and  she  felt  that  he  had  no 
business  there.  Varek  had  made  some  indifferent  re- 
mark, and  Ehrenstein  had  soon  departed,  but  with  the 
instinct  of  the  sensitive,  she  knew  Varek  was  angry. 
She  prayed  silently  it  was  not  with  her.  Two  days 
later  he  changed  her  work  room.  He  had  risen  from 
his  desk  with  his  characteristic  abruptness,  and  opened 
4  49 


The  Winning  Chance 

a  door  into  a  room  that  she  had  never  seen  until  that 
day,  and  before  she  knew  what  he  was  about,  he  had 
swept  her  and  the  typewriter  into  it. 

"There,  Mistress  Peggy,"  said  he,  looking  at  her 
surprised  face  with  smiling  eyes,  "you  can  hammer 
away  by  yourself  in  here.  I  am  tired  of  the  sound 
of  that  thing." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  called  her  anything 
but  Miss  Carew,  and  though  she  noticed  it  she  showed 
no  sign.  Then  too  she  was  surprised  at  the  room  in 
which  they  were.  It  was  not  large  but  it  was  beauti- 
fully furnished,  panelled  in  dark  wood,  and  hung 
with  pictures  that  Janet's  good  taste  told  her  were 
valuable.  The  oriental  rugs  were  soft  in  color,  and 
the  light  from  the  two  windows  was  subdued  by  the 
red  curtains  to  a  rosy  glow.  There  was  a  fireplace  in 
which  was  laid  an  unlighted  wood  fire,  and  a  tea-table 
with  an  oddly-shaped  brass  kettle  stood  near 
the  fireplace.  Several  comfortable  chairs,  a  table, 
and  a  wide  couch  piled  with  cushions,  completed  the 
furnishing. 

"It's  my  den,  or  thinking  place,  or  anything  you 
have  a  mind  to  call  it,"  said  Varek,  answering  her 
look.  "Do  you  like  it?" 

"It  is  charming,"  said  Janet.  "I  like  the  pic- 
tures— and  the  color  of  everything." 

He  looked  pleased.  "I  will  tell  you  about  the  pic- 
tures some  times, ' '  he  said.  ' '  Now  I  am  going  to  draw 

50 


A  Lowering  Sky 

back  this  curtain  and  give  you  a  decent  light.  There 
are  some  men  coming  to  a  meeting  in  the  office  there, 
but  when  they're  off,  I  will  open  the  door;  meantime 
you  can  work  in  peace." 

Janet  had  expected  to  move  back  the  next  day, 
but  Varek  said,  "No,  stay  where  you  are,"  and  it  be- 
came her  work  room.  He  kept  the  door  into  his  office 
partly  open,  but  Janet  saw  no  one  who  entered.  Her 
desk  was  in  the  corner  by  the  window,  and  Varek 
brought  her  work  to  her. 

So  day  after  day  passed,  and  gradually  Varek 's 
attitude  to  her  changed.  At  first  he  rarely  left  im- 
personal ground,  but  spasmodically,  and  as  it  pleased 
him,  he  talked  a  good  deal  to  her.  She  learned  the 
city  and  its  history  from  him — then  he  would  tell  her 
bits  of  his  own  experience,  for  he  appeared  to  have 
travelled  his  country  over  thoroughly.  Varek  was  a 
good  talker  in  his  own  terse  fashion,  and  Janet  could 
not  withhold  her  interest  in  much  that  he  told  her. 
She  liked  him  in  these  moods,  but  not  as  much  as  she 
feared  him  in  others.  Carefully  as  she  guarded  her 
speech,  she  was  more  than  once  beguiled  into  refer- 
ences to  herself,  particularly  to  her  childhood,  the 
one  happy  period  of  her  life.  But  they  were  her  only 
lapses. 

The  days  lengthened  into  weeks,  and  Varek  spent 
more  and  more  time  in  her  presence,  and  she  was 
nervously  conscious  of  the  fact.  Sometimes  he  would 

51 


The  Winning  Chance 

stretch  himself  on  the  couch  near  her,  silently  smok- 
ing, his  regard  on  her ;  or  he  might  choose  to  talk,  but 
what  he  had  to  say  was  in  character  with  the  warm 
luxury  of  the  room  in  which  she  spent  so  many  hours. 
He  kept  a  bright  fire  on  the  hearth,  and  flowers  at  her 
elbow.  He  often  came  in  and  busied  himself  in  his 
deft  way  at  the  tea-table ;  it  seemed  to  the  tired  girl 
that  the  fragrant  cup  of  tea  that  he  gave  her  was  the 
one  thing  that  enabled  her  to  accomplish  her  weary 
walk  homeward.  If  he  was  deliberately  seeking  to 
emphasize  the  contrast  between  that  warm  room  and 
the  dingy,  cold  place  to  which  she  nightly  hurried,  he 
certainly  succeeded. 

There  was  no  direct  word  or  act  that  she  could 
complain  of,  but  she  began  to  feel  a  pressure  upon  her 
like  a  heavy  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  it  could  not  be 
shaken  off.  She  lived  with  her  eyes  still  more  deter- 
minedly on  her  work,  but  sometimes  when  Varek  dic- 
tated to  her,  his  arm  on  the  back  of  her  chair,  his 
head  bent  close  to  hers,  she  had  been  surprised  into 
meeting  his  eyes,  and  then  it  was  that  she  carried 
home  with  her  an  impression  that  drove  sleep  from 
her  pillow. 

And  now  she  owed  him  money  that  she  had  not 
earned,  and  worse,  it  was  almost  gone;  if  before  the 
first  of  the  month  he  chose  to  offer  her  her  next 
month's  pay,  she  would  be  forced  to  take  it.  Even 
to  Janet's  inexperience  it  began  to  be  plain  that  her 

52 


A  Lowering  Sky 

earnings  could  not  be  made  to  cover  their  needs.  She 
knew  perfectly  well  that  such  a  position  as  she  was 
capable  of  filling  was  almost  impossible  to  find,  yet 
as  things  were  tending,  how  long  would  it  be  before 
she  would  have  to  join  that  army  that  was  forever 
"looking  for  work"?  "What  will  become  of  us?" 
said  the  voice  that  would  not  be  silent  in  the  night, 
and  as  she  walked  on  under  the  lowering  sky  it  re- 
peated itself  to  her — "What  will  become  of  us? — 
What  will  become  of  us?" 


V. 

THE  HIGH-CEILINGED  ROOM 

AT  Lizzie's  door  Janet  paused,  but  the  rough 
tones  of  a  man's  voice  raised  in  anger  reached  her, 
and  sighing  heavily  she  went  on  upstairs.  If  things 
had  not  gone  well  with  the  Carews  neither  had  they 
with  Lizzie.  Patrick  had  "lost  his  job,"  and  he  also 
was  "looking  for  work." 

"Whin  Patrick  is  wurrukin'  there's  no  stiddier 
man  on  earth,"  Lizzie  said,  "but  whin  his  big  hands 
lays  by  him  idle,  an'  th'  childher  are  in  need, — thin, 
Miss  Jannie,  it's  th'  dhrink,"  and  it  was  the  drink 
just  now  with  Patrick. 

Before  her  own  door  Janet  waited  a  moment,  a 
pause  that  had  become  second  nature  to  her  now,  a 
sort  of  lingering  behind  the  scenes  for  a  second  to 
assume  the  correct  expression  and  attitude  before 
stepping  out  into  public  view.  The  bright  look  that 
she  brought  in  with  her  was  for  Paul  and  the  cheer 
in  her  voice  for  the  blind  woman,  and  they  were  both 
received  in  the  usual  manner ;  Paul  looked  up  without 
speaking,  and  Mrs.  Carew's  arms  went  round  her 
daughter,  drawing  the  girl 's  soft  cheek  and  warm  lips 
against  her  own. 

"Tired,  Jannie?"  she  asked,  tenderly,  and  Janet 
murmured  back,  "Mummie,  Mummie,  sitting  up! 

54 


The  High-Ceilinged  Room 

You  pert  little  thing !  How  long  has  she  been  misbe- 
having?" she  asked,  getting  up  from  her  mother's 
chair  and  smiling  at  Paul. 

"Most  of  the  afternoon,"  said  he,  his  cold  look 
softening  as  his  eyes  rested  with  Janet 's  on  his  mother. 
If  there  was  a  human  being  besides  himself  to  whom 
Paul  was  capable  of  giving  a  loving  thought,  it  was 
his  mother.  She  suffered  as  he  did,  and  from  the 
same  cause,  and  she  never  touched  the  raw  wound 
that  Janet's  warm  health  and  beauty  were  always 
probing. 

"I  will  have  supper  in  a  minute,"  Janet  said  as 
she  took  off  her  coat  and  hat,  "and,  mother,  when  I 
am  ready  I  am  going  to  pull  your  chair  with  you  in 
it,  into  the  kitchen.  I  must  take  off  my  dress  first. ' ' 

"I  am  sorry  you  have  to  build  a  fire  in  that  cold 
room,  Jannie,"  said  Mrs.  Carew.  "It  is  so  dread- 
fully cold." 

"Have  you  been  cold  in  here?"  the  girl  asked, 
anxiously. 

Paul  did  not  answer  for  he  "was  already  deep  in 
the  journals,  but  Mrs.  Carew  laughed  with  a  light 
lift  of  her  shoulders.  ' '  We  haven 't  spent  much  time 
sitting  by  the  window,"  she  said.  "The  stove  can't 
complain  of  being  neglected."  There  was  a  vivacity 
in  every  movement  and  word  of  Mrs.  Carew 's  that  no 
amount  of  illness  or  misfortune  could  banish,  and  one 
forgot  the  blank  look  of  her  dark  eyes  in  watching  her 

55 


The  Winning  Chance 

little  gesturing  hands;  there  was  something  so  deli- 
cate and  bird-like  in  her  quick  movements.  Her  small 
pinched  face  retained  little  of  the  petite,  brunette 
beauty  that  had  charmed  Denis  Carew.  He  had  met 
her  in  New  Orleans,  and  courted,  won,  and  married 
her  in  his  usual  impetuous  fashion.  She  had  been 
reared  in  the  seclusion  customary  in  French  families, 
and  it  was  little  more  than  a  child  in  years  and  knowl- 
edge that  he  had  brought  back  with  him  to  his  Vir- 
ginia home. 

There,  save  for  the  occasional  visits  and  still  rarer 
festivities  among  the  few  old  families  about  them,  Mrs. 
Carew  had  spent  her  married  life,  and  had  been  con- 
tent in  her  home  and  her  children,  until  the  great  mis- 
fortune came.  The  overwhelming  sorrows  of  the  last 
six  years  had  brought  to  the  surface  of  her  nature 
traits  that  no  one  would  have  suspected  in  the  pretty, 
incapable  little  creature.  The  mother  love  in  her  had 
risen  and  drowned  out  everything  else.  It  had  begun 
when  she  had  realized  what  Janet  was  suffering,  and 
she  had  taken  the  child  close  into  her  heart.  To 
Paul  she  gave  ceaseless  love,  consideration,  and  sym- 
pathy, for  she  had  a  vague  understanding  of  the  sick 
soul  that  lay  under  his  frozen  manner. 

Of  the  life  that  Janet  had  entered  upon,  its  cold 
matter  of  fact,  its  cruelty  to  the  weak  and  grudging 
approbation  of  the  strong,  its  temptations  and  its 
trials,  she  had  about  as  much  conception  as  a  little 

56 


The  High-Ceilinged  Room 

child.  For  a  woman  to  earn  her  bread  was  hard, 
for  one  so  gently  reared  as  Janet  it  must  be  doubly 
so,  Mrs.  Carew  thought,  and  so  much  the  more  reason 
was  there  for  showing  her  daughter  every  tenderness. 
Mrs.  Carew  was  not  a  clever  woman,  but  she  was 
capable  of  a  thoroughly  unselfish  and  rather  helpless 
affection,  and  her  appeal  to  Janet  had  always  been 
the  stronger  for  that  reason.  If  Mrs.  Carew 's  mental 
capacity  was  not  of  the  highest,  her  innate  refine- 
ment was  unquestionable,  and  even  in  the  midst  of 
her  misfortunes  she  had  not  lost  the  pretty,  dainty 
manner  that  had  been  one  of  her  charms  as  a  girl. 

Janet  had  drawn  her  mother's  chair  into  the  next 
room  as  she  had  said,  and  there  followed  the  hour  that 
both  loved.  Mrs.  Carew  would  give  the  history  of  her 
day,  and  Janet  an  expurgated  recital  of  hers.  Even 
in  her  state  of  anxiety,  the  girl  let  little  escape  her  that 
might  serve  to  interest  and  amuse  her  mother.  She 
had  naturally  a  quick  perception  of  the  humorous  and 
was  a  good  mimic,  and  in  reacting  for  her  mother's 
benefit  some  incident  that  had  struck  her,  she  would 
forget  for  a  time  the  disagreeable  things  she  was 
pondering. 

To-night  Mrs.  Carew  was  eager  to  talk,  her  sen- 
tences coming  quick  and  short.  "It  is  news  about 
Paul,"  she  said.  "He  had  a  caller.  It  was  this 
morning — a  man  who  has  taken  a  room  on  this  floor — 

57 


The  Winning  Chance 

at  the  end  of  the  hall.  They  came  in  here  and  talked 
some  time.  Paul  says  he  is  a  doctor.  Then  this  after- 
noon Paul  went  to  see  him — clear  down  the  hall. — 
No,  he  had  no  help,"  Mrs.  Carew  said  in  answer  to 
Janet's  exclamation  of  surprise.  "He  went  slowly, 
but  he  went  quite  by  himself. ' ' 

"Why,  mother,  he  has  not  walked  that  far  for 
years!"  said  Janet.  "Can  it  really  mean  that  he  is 
better?  How  glad  I  should  be,"  she  said,  longingly. 

' '  He  spent  a  long  time  with  that  man, ' '  remarked 
Mrs.  Carew. 

"How  strange!  He  has  never  taken  the  least  in- 
terest in  any  one  before.  Mother,  could  you  tell  any- 
thing about  the  man?"  asked  Janet. 

"No,  he  was  not  in  my  room  at  all.  He  had  been 
smoking,  even  Paul's  clothes  were  full  of  it." 

"Well,"  said  Janet  doubtfully,  "that  is  news.     It 

would  do  Paul  good  to  have  an  interest,  if "  but 

she  did  not  go  on.  Instead  she  asked, ' '  Have  you  seen 
Lizzie  to-day?" 

"She  came  in  just  before  you  did,"  said  her 
mother.  "Denis  was  sent  home  ill  from  the  kinder- 
garten, and  Lizzie  left  the  laundry  early." 

"Did  Lizzie  say  he  was  very  sick?"  asked  Janet, 
anxiously. 

Mrs.  Carew  laughed.  "Lizzie  said  it  was  an 
'  ilephant  iv  a  fright  and  a  mouse  iv  a  stummickache ! ' 
— but  she  was  here  only  a  minute. ' ' 

58 


The  High-Ceilinged  Room 

"I  will  go  down  after  supper,"  said  Janet.  There 
was  silence  for  a  time  and  then  the  girl  said  hesi- 
tatingly, ''Mother,  there  is  a  janitor's  place  I  should 
like  so  much  to  ask  Mr.  Varek  for,  for  Patrick — but  I 
do  hate  so  to  ask  a  favor. ' ' 

"It  would  be  a  Godsend  to  them,"  said  Mrs. 
Carew,  "and  certainly  he  would  not  mind — he  seems 
to  be  a  kind  man.  Think  of  all  that  fruit,  and  the 
beautiful  flowers  he  sent  when  I  was  ill.  I  shall  never 
forget  that  great  magnolia  blossom !  Why,  Jannie,  I 
knew  it  was  there  the  instant  Lizzie  brought  it  inside 
the  door.  I  put  it  on  the  pillow  against  my  face,  and 
I  was  just  a  little  girl,  back  there  on  the  plantation, 
and  old  Mammy  waking  me  up  by  putting  one  over  my 
face — 'Levez  vous,  ma  petite!' — I  can  hear  her  now. 
It  was  a  good  deal  better  than  medicine, ' '  a  flush  rose 
to  Mrs.  Carew 's  thin  cheek. 

Janet's  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears,  but  she 
shrugged  them  away  with  a  gesture  that  was  very 
like  her  mother's  light  lift  of  the  shoulders.  "Well, 
mummie,"  said  she,  "you  can't  have  all  the  fruit 
and  flower  experiences.  I  came  home  this  evening 
with  an  immense  apple  tree." 

"What  do  you  mean,  dear?"  said  Mrs.  Carew,  in- 
stantly diverted. 

"A  huge,  live,  angry  apple  tree." 

"You  want  me  to  ask  you  questions,  but  I  won't 
do  it." 

59 


The  Winning  Chance 

"It  talked." 

"And  walked — go  on,  Jannie!" 

"It.  was  really  funny,  though,  mother.  I  got  on 
the  car  at  Hibbert  this  evening,  for  it  was  too  cold 
to  go  on  walking,  and  I  had  those  papers  to  carry, 
and  of  course  all  the  seats  were  full.  I  went  up  to 
about  the  middle  of  the  car  and  stood  up.  Then  two 
men  who  were  nearer  the  door  got  up,  and  a  queer, 
sharp-looking,  little  man  who  was  standing  near  me 
made  a  dive  to  get  the  seat.  At  the  same  time,  mum- 
mie,  a  big  dark  woman  who  was  standing  at  the  door 
made  for  it,  and  they  came  together.  She  plunged 
like  an  elephant  into  the  seat,  and  the  shove  she  gave 
the  little  man  sent  him  clear  up  to  me  again;  he 
bounced  back  like  a  ball,  though,  and  got  the  little 
corner  of  seat  the  fat  lady  didn't  cover.  She  seemed 
to  be  in  a  great  fume.  She  was  turned  about  beckon- 
ing to  another  big  Jewish  lady  who  was  at  the 
door.  '  Come  hier,  Mrs.  Apf elbaum,  come, '  she  called 
out.  'You  should  haf  dis  seat!'  and  she  glared  at 
the  little  man  beside  her,  but  he  never  paid  the  least 
attention.  All  the  rest  of  us  were  smiling  except 
Mrs.  Apf  elbaum.  'Nein,  Mrs.  Rich,'  she  said,  scorn- 
fully ; '  when  those  what  are  younger  than  I,  they  sit — 
then  I  stand. ' 

"Just  then  the  conductor  came  for  their  fares, 
and  Mrs.  Rich  seemed  to  be  having  a  terrible  time. 
She  searched  all  about  in  her  bundles,  and  then 

60 


The  High-Ceilinged  Room 

dumped  them  over  on  the  little  man's  lap,  and  tried 
to  get  up  and  look  under  her  seat.  Then  he  got  up, 
holding  her  bundles,  and  she  looked  under  him. 
'  Mrs.  Eich, '  Mrs.  Apf elbaum  called  out  from  the  door, 
'haf  you  lost  somedings?' 

"  '  Ja, '  said  Mrs.  Rich,  'it  is  my  nickel — it  is  gone ! ' 
and  she  looked  at  the  little  man. 

"  'Ach,'  said  Mrs.  Apf  elbaum,  'dat  is  too  bad;' 
but  she  didn't  offer  to  lend  her  one,  mother.  Then 
the  little  man  spoke,  and  he  had  such  a  great  deep 
voice  for  his  small  body.  'Madam,'  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Rich,  '  I  think  your  nickel  rolled  away  forward  under 
those  seats,  but  if  you  to-night,  just  as  soon  as  you  get 
home,  will  sit  down  and  write  to  this  street-car  com- 
pany, they  will  search  for  and  find  your  nickel,  and 
return  it  to  you.' 

"Mrs.  Rich  gave  him  a  sharp  look,  but  he  just 
looked  solemnly  back  at  her.  'Veil,  den,'  she  said,  'I 
vill  find  annodder,'  and  she  plumped  herself  down  in 
her  seat,  and  hauled  up  her  skirt,  and  brought  out  a 
nickel  from  her  underskirt  pocket.  'You  find  the 
odder!'  she  said  to  the  conductor.  Every  one  was 
laughing  by  that  time,  mother,  and  the  little  man  gave 
Mrs.  Rich  her  bundles.  'Allow  me,  Madam,'  he  said 
to  Mrs.  Apf  elbaum,  and  then  he  got  off  the  car." 

Mrs.  Carew  laughed  heartily.  "Jannie,  what 
queer  things  you  see.  Do  you  think  she  will  write 

for  her  nickel?" 

61 


The  Winning  Chance 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  the  girl,  stifling  a 
sigh;  "that  was  really  funny,  though,  this  evening — 
I  couldn't  help  laughing  myself." 

Later  on  Janet  went  down  to  Lizzie.  Patrick  was 
gone,  she  knew  only  too  well  where,  and  Lizzie  sat 
holding  the  baby  and  watching  Denis  as  he  slept.  She 
looked  very  tired,  and  her  face  was  if  possible  thinner ; 
in  the  dim  light  her  scrawny  features  looked  grotesque, 
but  she  had  a  smile  for  Janet. 

"Give  him  to  me,"  whispered  the  girl,  motioning 
to  her  lap ;  "he  is  too  heavy  for  you. ' ' 

Lizzie  handed  the  baby  over  and  the  two  sat  close 
together.  ' '  Is  Denis  better  ? ' '  asked  Janet. 

"Yis,  he's  all  right  now,"  said  Lizzie,  and  tired 
and  worn  though  she  was,  her  blue  eyes  twinkled  with 
some  of  her  usual  humor.  ' '  I  came  in  here  in  a  fright 
as  ye  may  know,  Miss  Jannie,  an'  there  was  th'  little 
devil  with  his  mouth  standin'  wide  an'  his  legs 
doubled  up.  'Dinis,  me  pet,  where  is  it  yer  pain  is, 
thin  ? '  I  asked. 

"  '  In  me  heart,  mither, '  says  he,  yellin '  th '  worse. 

"  'In  yer  heart!'  says  I  fair  frighted.  'Put  yer 
hand  on  th'  place,  thin,  darlin'.' 

"  'It's  here,  mither,'  said  he,  his  eyes  streamin'; 
an'  he  laid  his  hand  right  on  th'  top  iv  his  little  stum- 
mick."  Janet  laughed  softly,  her  lips  against  the 
"baby's  hair. 

62 


The  High-Ceilinged  Room 

"An'  that's  not  all  iv  it,"  continued  Lizzie.  "I 
wint  round  here  loike  a  whirlwind,  tho '  I  had  to  laugh 
a  bit,  and  prisently  I  had  a  hot  dhrink  f'r  him. 
'Here,  Dinis,'  says  I,  'ye  take  this.  It  will  dhraw 
away  all  th '  pain,  darlin ',  an '  put  ye  to  sleep. '  Thin 
he  shut  up  his  mouth.  'Na,  na,  mither,  I  wull  not!' 
says  he,  chokin'.  'I  wnnt,  I  wunt.' 

"  'Now,'  says  I,  me  patience  nearly  exhausted, 
'it's  this  very  instant  ye '11  drink  it,  Dinis  McGinniss, 
an '  I  say  it ! '  With  that,  Miss  Jannie,  he  turned 
black  entoirely,  an'  I  saw  it  wasn't  th'  pain,  it  was 
clear  frighted  th'  child  was. 

"  'Dinis,  will  ye  explain  yersilf,  thin?'  I  asked. 

"  'Ach,  mither,'  he  cried,  very  piteous,  'it's  what 
they  did  to  Adam!  Don't  ye  please,  mither,  do  it!' 

"  'Dinis,  are  ye  outside  iv  yer  head?"  says  I. 

"  'Na,  they  did  it!'  he  says.  'They  gived  him 
somethin'  that  putted  him  to  sleep,  mither,  an'  then 
they  cutted  out  his  rib. ' 

"  'Dinis,'  said  I,  sittin'  down  quite  sudden,  'what 
praist  telled  ye  that  ? ' 

"  'There  didn't  any  praist  telled  me,'  says  he, 
snifflin';  'they  telled  me  at  th'  kindergarten.' 

"  'Now,'  says  I,  very  positive,  'ye  hear  yer  mither 
— whin  th'  praist  tells  ye  sich  a  thing  it's  toime  ye 
belave  it,  but  at  th'  kindergarten  they  tells  ye  more 
than  yer  little  head  can  hold.  Don 't  ye  worry,  Dinis. 
It's  yer  mither  will  look  after  yer  ribs,  an'  see  no  wan 

63 


The  Winning  Chance 

gets  thim.' — It's  f ' r  th'  childher  wan's  heart  is  heavy 
whin  there's  throuble,"  sighed  Lizzie,  "but  there's 
comfort  in  thim  too  sometoimes." 

Janet  sat  silent,  thinking  over  again  the  oppor- 
tunity of  helping  Lizzie.  She  had  considered  it  for 
several  days  and  was  tempted  to  plead  for  Patrick, 
in  spite  of  her  better  judgment.  Her  request  would 
be  granted,  that  she  knew;  it  was  that  certainty  that 
made  her  so  reluctant  to  ask. 

"Lizzie,  do  you  still  have  that  pain  in  your  side 
all  of  the  time?"  she  asked. 

"Yis,"  said  the  woman.  "Miss  Jannie,  I  pray 
on  me  knees  ivery  night  Patrick  may  get  wurruk — 
I  can't  kape  up  much  longer." 

"I  know  he  will,"  said  Janet,  with  sudden 
decision. 

"What  do  ye  mean,  Miss  Jannie?"  asked  the 
woman,  surprised  at  her  tone. 

"Just  that  I  feel  sure  he  will.  Shall  I  put  the 
baby  on  the  bed  for  you  ?  I  must  go  back  to  mother. ' ' 
Lizzie  put  back  the  covers,  and  Janet  laid  the  baby 
beside  Denis.  Mary  and  Patty  were  sleeping  in  the 
front  room  that  served  for  living  room  and  kitchen 
as  well ;  the  third  room  had  been  given  up  some  time 
ago. 

At  the  door  Janet  stopped  and  put  her  arm  around 
the  elder  woman's  shoulders.  "Don't  worry  to-night, 
Lizzie,  things  may  look  better  to-morrow."  Lizzie 

64 


The  High-Ceilinged  Room 

did  not  answer,  perhaps  she  could  not.  The  girl  was 
about  to  open  the  door,  when  she  remembered  one  of 
the  reasons  that  had  brought  her  down  to  Lizzie's 
rooms. 

"There  is  a  new  roomer  on  our  floor,  Lizzie,  do 
you  know  anything  about  him?" 

"Th'  midical  man?"  said  Lizzie.  "No,  an'  I 
don't  want  to.  If  it's  medicine  he's  after  practisin' 
he  takes  quare  ways  iv  doin'  it." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Lizzie?"  the  girl  asked, 
anxiously. 

"Don't  ye  worry  yer  pretty  head,  dearie.  He's 
jist  a  wild  wan,  and  not  f'r  th'  loikes  iv  ye,"  the 
woman  answered,  wisely. 

"You  foolish  thing,"  said  Janet.  "I  wasn't 
thinking  of  myself;"  but  she  did  not  explain  about 
Paul. 


VI. 

JANET  ASKS  A  FAVOR 

NEW-YEAR'S  DAY  had  come  and  gone,  and  Janet 
was  glad  the  holidays  were  over.  The  temptations 
of  the  gay  shop-windows,  in  face  of  the  bare  unloveli- 
ness  at  home,  had  been  trying,  and  the  jostling,  busy 
crowd  that  had  daily  elbowed  her  so  closely  had 
almost  driven  her  into  unsavory  side-streets.  For 
days  about  Union  Market  it  had  been  almost  impos- 
sible to  push  her  way.  Now  there  was  a  lull. 

Several  days  had  passed  since  she  had  decided  to 
speak  for  Patrick,  but  she  had  not  done  it  yet.  Varek 
had  been  more  preoccupied  than  usual,  but  there  had 
been  opportunities,  and  yet  she  had  kept  silent.  This 
morning  she  felt  she  must  speak.  She  could  not  bear 
the  trouble  in  poor  Lizzie's  face  any  longer,  and  if 
she  must  do  it,  the  sooner  the  better. 

"When  she  came  into  the  office,  she  found  Varek 
already  there,  tipped  back  in  his  chair  and  doing  noth- 
ing in  particular,  unless  the  frown  on  his  brow  meant 
disagreeable  thoughts.  She  took  off  her  coat  and  hat, 
and  gathering  together  her  resolution  approached  him. 

"Are  you  very  busy,  Mr.  Varek,  just  now?"  she 
asked.  "Could  I  speak  to  you  about  something?" 

He  brought  his  chair  down  instantly,  and  turned 
66 


Janet  Asks  a  Favor 

a  surprised  look  on  her.  When  he  saw  her  expres- 
sion, and  the  color  that  came  into  her  face  at  his 
look,  his  brows  unbent  and  a  line  of  satisfaction 
appeared  about  his  mouth.  Janet,  as  she  had  thought 
of  the  interview,  had  seen  exactly  that  look  on  his  face. 
The  knowledge  that  it  would  appear  was  one  of  the 
things  that  had  withheld  her. 

"What  is  it,  Peggy?"  he  said. 

"It's  about  the  janitor's  place  at  your  flat  build- 
ing— I  mean  where  the  fire  was,"  explained  Janet, 
for  some  reason  finding  the  chair-back  her  hand  was 
grasping  a  welcome  support.  "I  wondered  if  you 
would  consider  giving  it  to  a  man  I  know  who  is  a 
very  faithful,  good  workman.  He  has  been  out  of 
work,  and  they  are  having  a  hard  time.  His  wife  is 
ill,  too." 

"There  are  a  good  many  men  out  of  work  just 
now,"  said  Varek,  tentatively,  his  eyes  on  her  face. 
He  was  not  going  to  make  it  easy  for  her,  then,  and 
she  had  known  he  would  not. 

1 '  His  wife  used  to  work  for  us, ' '  Janet  continued, 
' '  and  I  know  what  good  honest  people  they  are.  Pat- 
rick is  one  of  those  men  who  think  of  their  employers ' 
interests  first,  and  I  don 't  believe  a  fire  like  that  at  the 
flats  would  happen  if  he  were  looking  after  a  place; 
he  is  very  careful." 

Varek  wore  an  unconvinced  air.  He  took  up  a 
pencil,  turning  it  thoughtfully  in  his  fingers.  "I 

67 


The  Winning  Chance 

«lon't  know,"  he  said;  "there  are  a  dozen  men  for  the 
place — men  I  have  employed  before."  It  was  only  a 
a  day  or  two  before  that  she  had  heard  him  say  that 
he  didn't  know  an  honest  man  for  the  place. 

He  would  force  her  to  it  then,  make  her  put  her 
request  in  the  form  he  desired.  The  hot  blood  came 
into  her  face.  "I  am  very  fond  of  his  wife,"  she 
said  then,  with  a  certain  clearness  of  enunciation, 
"and  I  should  be  very  grateful  to  you  if  you  did  find 
you  could  help  them — I  am  afraid  I  am  asking  a 
favor. ' ' 

He  flashed  her  a  look  that  held  several  expres- 
sions, as  he  answered  quickly,  "Certainly  he  shall 
have  the  place  if  it  means  anything  to  you.  I  would 
go  a  long  day's  journey  to  do  you  a  favor,  little 
Peggy."  He  had  risen  as  he  spoke,  and  with  the 
suddenness  that  characterized  all  of  his  movements, 
he  bent  and  brushed  back  from  her  cheek  a  strand  of 
hair  that  lay  on  it.  The  motion  spoke  volumes. 

Janet  started  back  and  for  a  moment  her  eyes 
flamed  at  him,  her  hand  at  her  cheek;  but  he  gazed 
at  her  steadily,  and  made  no  excuse,  and  she  got  back 
into  her  own  room.  She  lifted  the  cloth  cover  from 
the  typewriter  with  trembling  hands.  Fool  that  she 
was — what  had  she  expected  ?  Did  she  think  she  could 
touch  fire  and  not  be  burned?  What  had  it  been 
since  she  entered  that  office  but  one  long  struggle 
between  them  ?  She  had  not  lifted  her  eyes,  she  had 

68 


Janet  Asks  a  Favor 

been  purposely  blind,  and  deaf,  and  dumb — to  herself 
— to  him — knowing  one  thing,  striving  to  think 
another.  For  some  reason  of  his  own  he  had  withheld 
his  hand  so  far,  but  he  knew  her  fear,  and  her  neces- 
sity, or  she  had  been  all  wrong  in  the  reading  of  some 
things.  Driven  almost  frantic  at  home,  full  of  terror 
here — it  was  beyond  human  endurance. 

But  what  could  she  do?  Hers  was  the  kind  of 
position  given  to  the  favored  people.  She  was  incapa- 
ble of  doing  what  those  two  girls  in  the  outer  office 
were  doing.  That  took  business  training  and  was 
paid  in  proportion.  On  a  salary  such  as  that  they 
could  live  and  even  pay  some  doctor's  bills,  but  what 
was  forty  dollars  a  month  to  three  people,  and  two 
of  them  invalids !  She  had  been  mad — no,  just  igno- 
rant— when  she  had  dreamed  that  they  could  manage 
on  it,  even  in  those  three  miserable  rooms.  Yesterday 
she  had  paid  her  rent  and  given  up  Paul's  room. 
Every  month  Mr.  Bronson  had  handed  her  twenty- 
five  dollars  more  than  her  salary.  ' '  Just  let  it  run, ' ' 
he  had  said;  "we  will  straighten  things  out  some 
time" — and  she  had  taken  it  like  a  child.  It  had 
made  things  possible  for  them,  but  she  knew  better 
now. 

Round  and  round  the  miserable,  familiar  circle, 
her  thoughts  travelled,  and  came  back  to  the  usual 
starting  point.  She  must  bear  it  here  until  it  became 
impossible  and  then  try  elsewhere.  She  had  few 


The  Winning  Chance 

/ 

opportunities  to  even  hear  of  any  other  position  pos- 
sible to  her,  but  she  must  use  every  effort.  In  the 
meantime  she  would  push  economy  still  further,  but 
she  would  not  ask  herself  how  long  they  could  stand  it. 

Her  head  pained  her  intolerably,  just  the  constant 
boring  pain  at  the  back  of  her  eyeballs,  become  sharper. 
More  than  once  in  the  night  watches  it  had  obtruded 
itself  that  she  might,  if  her  racking  anxiety  continued, 
become  too  ill  to  work.  The  thought  was  ghastly.  As 
her  trembling  fingers  sorted  over  the  papers  on  her 
desk,  she  saw  an  envelope  addressed  to  herself.  It 
was  just  the  usual  business  envelope  of  the  firm,  and 
before  her  fingers  touched  its  thickness,  she  knew  what 
was  in  it — her  salary  given  her  early  again.  She 
loathed  the  sight  of  the  money,  much  as  it  meant  to 
her.  She  tore  off  the  end  of  the  envelope  and  saw 
the  folded  bills — and  now  she  would  have  to  thank 
him.  She  thrust  it  into  the  front  of  her  dress  and 
clasping  her  head  in  her  hands  and  setting  her  teeth 
she  tried  to  calm  herself.  Whatever  she  did,  she 
must  not  have  a  fit  of  the  nerves,  for  what  possible 
good  would  it  do? 

She  had  time  to  quiet  herself,  for  Varek  had 
closed  the  door  between  them  and  she  heard  the 
voices  of  Braun  and  Ehrenstein.  For  some  days 
there  had  been  a  tense  atmosphere  at  Varek 's,  and 
Janet  knew  that  some  enterprise  of  moment  was 
occupying  the  energies  of  the  firm.  The  three  had 

70 


Janet  Asks  a  Favor 

met  several  times  in  conference,  and  scraps  of  conver- 
sation had  reached  her  through  the  closed  door. 
Ehrenstein's  voice  in  particular,  bearing  clearly  in  its 
excitement  the  characteristic  thick  nasal  intonation 
of  his  race.  She  could  see  his  typically  Semitic  face 
alive  with  the  one  all-absorbing  interest,  his  shoulders 
shrugging,  his  palms  outspread.  "What  we  have  paid 
for,  that  we  should  have, ' '  came  distinctly  to  her  now, 
and  Varek's  cutting,  "They  have  me  to  deal  with, 
they  would  better  look  out." 

For  some  reason  the  words  touched  a  strong  fibre 
of  resistance  in  her  and  she  stiffened  as  she  sat.  Did 
he  think  all  the  world  feared  him?  Did  that  thin- 
lipped  blonde  woman,  his  wife,  whose  cold  eye  had 
rested  so  indifferently  for  a  moment  on  her,  fear  him 
too?  Janet  had  drawn  back  to  the  curb  one  rainy 
afternoon  as  Mrs.  Varek  swept  by  her  in  her  cushion- 
tired  carriage,  and  as  she  labored  for  an  hour  that 
night  to  remove  from  her  skirt  the  mud  thrown  from 
the  wheels  she  had  wondered.  A  feeling  of  dull 
defiance  of  fate  and  of  him  rose  in  her.  It  nerved 
her  to  look  him  in  the  face  when  he  came  in  and  she 
thought  that  she  had  never  seen  him  look  so  grim. 

His  black  brows  were  drawn  down  into  almost  a 
straight  line,  and  his  eyes  looked  out  from  under  them 
with  the  blue-gray  glint  of  a  steel  blade.  His  lips, 
that  generally  showed  some  red  under  his  heavy  mus- 
tache, were  so  firmly  pressed  as  not  to  be  seen  and 

71 


The  Winning  Chance 

his  heavy  jaw  was  set  like  iron.  He  merely  glanced 
at  her,  and  began  slowly  walking  back  and  forth,  the 
length  of  his  office  and  her  room.  He  seemed  to  be 
plunged  in  one  of  his  reveries,  but  he  did  not  ask  her 
to  stop  her  noisy  machine,  so  she  went  on. 

Presently  he  came  in  with  some  papers.  "Will 
you  please  make  a  careful  list  of  these,  the  dates 
and  amounts,  and  the  names?"  he  said.  "No,  not 
typewritten,"  he  added,  quickly,  as  Janet  turned 
to  the  desk.  "I  want  quiet."  He  stretched  himself 
on  the  couch  flat  on  his  back,  drew  toward  him  a  little 
table  that  held  his  cigars  and  ash-tray,  and  lighted 
a  cigar. 

"Perhaps  I  would  disturb  you  less  if  I  sat  in  the 
next  room,"  ventured  Janet.  She  would  have  much 
preferred  the  other  room. 

He  turned  his  head  toward  her  with  a  look  that 
unbent  his  brows.  "Don't  leave,  please,"  he  said,  his 
black  look  gone.  ' '  I  have  two  hours  in  which  to  save 
a  situation — that  is,  if  I  think  straight ;  if  your  corner 
were  empty  I  might  think  of  that."  He  looked  quiz- 
zically at  her  under  the  hand  that  was  holding  his 
lighted  cigar.  "If  you  don't  mind,  keep  as  quiet  as 
possible,  though."  Janet  did  not  answer,  and  he 
turned  his  head  away,  put  the  cigar  between  his  lips, 
and  folding  his  hands  on  his  broad  chest,  lay  perfectly 
still. 

An  hour  passed,  and  a  second — the  noon  whistles 

72 


Janet  Asks  a  Favor 

blew,  the  fire  burned  itself  out,  but  Varek  did  not 
stir,  except  to  knock  the  ash  from  his  cigar,  and  when 
that  was  smoked,  to  light  another,  and  still  another. 
Janet  wearily  went  on  with  her  task.  She  felt  numb 
to  her  finger-tips.  It  was  long  past  her  lunch  hour, 
when  she  daily  forced  herself  to  walk  round  the  block 
and  swallow  a  bad  cup  of  tea, — one  of  the  luxuries 
that  her  new  program  must  not  include, — and  she 
began  to  realize  that  it  would  have  been  better  for 
her  if  she  had  had  something  more  substantial  than 
just  coffee  for  breakfast.  She  had  had  a  bad  night, 
and  the  thought  of  food  had  been  repellent  to  her, 
as  it  was  now,  but  she  felt  weak  and  dizzy.  Her  work 
swam  before  her  eyes  and  she  wrote  with  difficulty, 
but  at  last  it  was  done  and  she  could  lay  her  head  back 
and  rest. 

Some  time  later  on  Varek  raised  himself  and  sat 
up.  He  wore  an  alertly-pleased  look,  as  if  he  had 
passed  his  time  to  some  purpose,  but  as  his  eye  sought 
the  clock  and  Janet's  corner,  he  drew  his  lips  in  an 
inaudible  whistle.  Getting  up  softly  he  crossed  the 
floor  to  her  chair. 

She  sat  with  her  head  slightly  thrown  back  and  her 
eyes  closed,  her  hands  resting  on  the  leather  covered 
arms  of  her  chair.  Her  colorless  lips  were  a  little 
parted,  as  if  a  breath  had  escaped  from  them  and  no 
other  would  follow  to  stir  with  a  semblance  of  life 
the  deadly  paleness  of  her  face.  There  was  some- 

73 


The  Winning  Chance 

thing  terrifying  in  the  blue  shadows  under  her  eyes 
and  her  perfect  stillness. 

"My  God!"  said  Varek,  suddenly  white. 
"Peggy!"  He  bent  down  and  touched  her  as  if 
he  might  find  her  cold,  but  her  heavy  lashes  lifted 
and  she  looked  blankly  into  his  terrified  face. 
"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  huskily.  "Are  you  ill?" 

"No,"  she  said,  dully;  "I  was — resting — I — 
think." 

"Resting!"  said  Varek.  "God,  I  thought— had 
you  fainted?" 

"I  am  all  right,"  said  Janet,  determinedly  drag- 
ging herself  to  her  feet.  "I  may  have  been 

asleep "  and  she  tried  to  stand,  but  clutched  at 

the  chair. 

Yarek  lifted  her  like  a  child  and  set  her  down. 
Then  seizing  the  spirit  bottle  that  stood  on  the  table, 
he  poured  out  some  brandy  into  a  glass.  "Oh,  you 
damned  brute,  you ! "  he  said  between  his  teeth.  ' '  You 
damned  brute." 

He  knelt  beside  her  and  put  the  glass  to  her  lips. 
"Take  a  mouthful,  little  one,"  he  begged.  "It  will 
do  you  more  good  than  anything." 

Janet  had  never  fainted  in  her  life,  but  she  thought 
she  was  going  to  now,  and  she  was  frightened  beyond 
anything.  There  was  a  black  mist  before  her  eyes, 
and  a  leaden  weight  on  her  head.  The  strong  stuff 
she  swallowed  burned  her  tongue  and  throat  like  fire, 
but  it  brought  back  her  fading  consciousness. 

74 


Janet  Asks  a  Favor 

She  sat  gasping  for  a  time,  and  then  she  stiffened 
in  the  arm  Varek  had  put  around  her  and  drew  herself 
out  of  his  hold.  "I  am  better  now,"  she  said.  "Mr. 
Varek,  could  you,  if  you  would,  get  me  something  to 
eat?" — anything  to  give  her  time  to  recover  herself. 
He  got  up  at  once  and  went  to  the  telephone,  then 
coming  back  he  lighted  the  brass  kettle  and  while 
she  was  still  trying  to  steady  herself  he  brought  lier 
a  cup  of  tea. 

He  sat  watching  her  as  her  trembling  hand  lifted 
the  spoon  to  her  lips,  and  the  hard  shrewd  lines  in 
his  face  softened.  ' '  Peggy,  I  thought  I  had  lost  you, ' ' 
he  said;  but  it  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that  he 
made  no  apology.  Some  hot  toast  and  a  bowl  of 
soup  arrived,  and  Yarek  brought  it  to  her,  and  saw 
her  eat,  but  it  was  not  until  some  color  returned  to 
her  face,  and  she  leaned  back  with  a  sigh,  that  he 
spoke. 

"How  long  can  you  stand  this  sort  of  thing, 
Peggy?"  he  asked.  "Are  you  going  to  let  me  stand 
by  and  see  you  kill  yourself  ?  You  are  as  out  of  place 
in  this  life  you  have  been  forced  into,  as  a  little  deli- 
cate flower,  and  you  will  go  under.  You  know  just 
as  well  as  I  that  any  time  these  last  two  months  you 
could  have  had  my  help — but  you  would  none  of  it. ' ' 

"I  would  have  no  right  to  ask  you  for  help,"  said 
Janet  in  a  low  voice.  "If  you  felt  kindly  toward  me, 
and  I  could  do  my  work,  it  was  all  I  could  ask,  and 

75 


The  Winning  Chance 

it  was  all  I  wanted.  You  have  been  kind  in  paying 
me  before  I  had  earned  it,  and  I  think  you  have  saved 
Lizzie's  life.  You  have  helped  me,  helped  me  very 
much." 

He  was  leaning  over  her,  his  hand  on  the  back  of 
her  chair,  but  he  straightened  and  lifted  his  shoulders 
as  she  spoke,  his  face  darkening.  "Do  you  call  that 
help  ? ' '  said  he.  ' '  Peggy,  you  don 't  know  me.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  common  sense — then  use  it.  Your 
situation  is  what  it  is,  and  you  can't  change  it;  why 
not  then  make  the  best  of  it  ?  Instead,  you  have  per- 
sistently put  aside  the  friendship  I  have  offered  you. 
You  have  made  it  plain  enough  every  day  that  you 
would  not  have  me  for — in  any  capacity." 

"You  are  my  employer,"  said  Janet,  her  voice 
growing  firmer, ' '  and  if  you  will  also  really  be  a  friend 
to  us,  my  mother,  and  Paul,  and  me,  we  will  be  grate- 
ful to  you  as  long  as  we  live — I  think  you  have  always 
known  that."  She  had  spoken  before  without  meet- 
ing his  eyes,  but  now  she  turned  and  looked  into  his 
face. 

Varek  met  her  look  silently,  and  though  his  lips 
smiled  his  eyes  did  not.  Then  he  held  out  his  hand. 
"Will  you  shake  hands  on  our  friendship  then, 
Peggy?"  he  asked. 

Weak  as  she  was  the  color  rose  hot  in  her  cheeks. 
"No,"  she  said,  her  eyes  dilating. 

Varek  got  up  and  stood  looking  down  at  her,  and 
76 


Janet  Asks  a  Favor 

there  was  no  lack  of  admiration  in  the  look.  "You 
may  be  a  child  in  some  ways,"  he  said,  "but,  Peggy 
dear,  I  bow  before  your  intelligence.  You  fear  I 
might  be  an  exacting  friend,  and  you  trust  me  as  little 

as  I  trust  all  womankind,  but  you "     He  stopped, 

but  Janet  sat  silent,  and  he  continued,  "So  it  is  to  go 
on  then?  I  am  not  easily  beaten,  Peggy."  Then  as 
she  did  not  move  nor  lift  her  eyes,  Varek  bent  down 
and  looked  into  her  face.  "Wouldn't  it  be  easier  to 
like  me  a  little?"  he  asked,  softly.  "Peggy,  I  am 
not  always  a  bear. ' ' 

The  girl  got  up  without  looking  at  him  and  put 
on  her  hat  with  shaking  hands.  "It  is  a  little  early, ' ' 
she  said,  "but  I  should  like  to  go  home.  I  don't 
think  I  could  work  any  more  to-day." 

"Work!  Of  course  not!"  exclaimed  Varek. 
"But  you  are  not  to  go  that  way;  you're  not  fit  to 
walk.  I  telephoned  for  a  carriage  to  come  at  five. 
Come  here,  Peggy,  and  sit  down!"  but  the  girl  had 
caught  up  her  coat  and  was  out  of  the  door. 

He  followed  her  into  the  general  office,  for  Janet 
had  chosen  that  way  purposely,  instead  of  the  private 
passage  that  led  to  Varek 's  rooms,  but  there  he 
stopped.  Back  again  in  his  own  room  he  put  on  his 
coat  and  hat.  "I'll  have  to  follow  her,"  he  mut- 
tered. ' '  She 's  too  sick  to  go  on  the  street  like  that — 
the  plucky  little  thing!  Leo  Varek,  you  are  some- 
thing a  good  deal  worse  than  a  fool!" 

77 


VII. 

A  STENOGRAPHER'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

THE  next  week  passed  for  Janet  in  a  state  of  mind, 
or  more  correctly  speaking  of  nerves,  that  she  would 
never  have  dreamed  possible  for  her.  The  morning 
after  her  scene  with  Varek  she  came  promptly  to  her 
work.  She  spoke  her  good-morning  distinctly,  looking 
him  in  the  eye,  and  as  she  passed  into  her  room  and 
sat  at  her  desk,  she  held  her  head  high.  The  weariness 
of  the  last  weeks  seemed  to  have  slipped  from  her. 
Her  breakfasts  were  as  repellent  to  her  as  ever  and 
she  slept  unrefreshed,  but  she  could  walk  without 
tiring  and  the  blood  seemed  to  go  faster  through  her 
veins. 

She  had  left  the  office  the  day  before  with  an 
overwhelming  sense  of  outrage  and  her  fear  was 
swallowed  up  in  it.  Let  come  what  would,  he  should 
see  that  she  would  neither  be  driven  nor  cajoled.  He 
sat  secure  in  his  strength  and  his  money,  thinking  that 
she  must  come  to  his  hand,  that  there  was  no  escape 
for  her.  She  had  been  a  coward  in  her  terror  for 
those  two  at  home.  The  time  would  come — even  in 
her  new-born  courage  she  felt  that  it  would  come — 
when  she  would  not  know  which  way  to  turn,  but  in 
the  mean  time — and  with  all  her  wits  at  work  she 

78 


A  Stenographer's  Point  of  View 

would  make  that  mean  time  as  long  as  possible — Varek 
should  meet  his  match.  Did  he  think  that  because 
she  had  sat  so  quietly  in  his  presence  she  was  a  fool? 
Janet  would  have  been  no  woman  if  she  had  not 
learned  in  all  those  weeks  that  she  had  a  certain 
power  over  Varek ;  it  was  one  of  the  knowledges  that 
came  to  Eve  when  she  bit  the  apple.  It  had  been  a 
terror  to  her  and  the  cause  of  all  her  difficulties,  but 
it  had  taught  her  that  her  place  in  Varek 's  office  would 
be  hers  as  long  as  he  could  retain  her. 

That  envelope  lay  as  yet  untouched  in  her  bureau 
drawer,  her  mother  seemed  slowly  to  be  gathering 
strength,  Paul  was  occupied  with  his  new  friend,  and 
a  great  happiness  reigned  in  Lizzie's  domain.  She 
had  a  little  time  in  which  to  breathe  and  plan. 

That  afternoon  Janet  went  to  Bronson's  office  to 
see  a  girl  she  had  known  there.  She  wanted  to  learn 
anything  she  could  of  employment  agencies  for  her 
kind  of  work,  and  she  thought  Amy  King  could  tell 
her. 

She  had  started  as  early  as  possible  and  found 
Bronson  's  office  still  busy.  ' '  Hello ! ' '  said  Amy,  when 
she  came  in,  "I  haven't  seen  you  for  a  coon's  age." 
She  was  a  big  blonde  girl,  with  a  fine  figure,  and  a  face 
that  would  have  been  very  pretty  if  it  had  not  been  too 
full.  She  was  good-humored  and  had  always  been 
pleasant  to  Janet,  and  she  could  think  of  no  one  else 
to  go  to.  When  she  left  Bronson's  office  she  would 
have  asked  Amy  to  come  and  see  her,  but  she  never 

79 


The  Winning  Chance 

could  have  presented  to  her  mother  Amy's  flow  of 
slang  and  office  gossip,  and  their  acquaintance  had 
dropped. 

' ' Sit  down, ' '  Amy  went  on.  "I '11  be  through  in  a 
minute."  She  looked  up  over  her  work  rather  curi- 
ously at  Janet,  but  she  smiled  pleasantly  enough. 
There  was  another  girl  rattling  along  on  her  machine, 
but  she  was  since  Janet 's  time. 

"There,"  said  Amy,  "thank  goodness! — Miss 
Jones,  have  you  met  Miss  Carew  ?  She  used  to  be  one 
of  our  layout — over  to  Varek's  now." 

Miss  Jones  nodded  to  Janet,  giving  her  coat  and 
hat  a  good  deal  of  consideration  in  the  process. 

' '  Come  over  here, ' '  said  Amy,  ' '  and  we  can  talk. ' ' 
The  two  girls  sat  down  under  one  of  the  windows. 

"How  are  you,  Amy?"  Janet  asked.  "Having 
as  good  a  time  as  ever?" 

"Out  of  sight!"  said  Amy.  "Say,  though,  how 
about  yourself?  You  look  like  the  morning  after — 
been  sick?" 

"No,  I  am  tired  though,  and  think  I  may  want  to 
make  a  change,"  said  Janet. 

"A  change,"  said  the  other  in  surprise, — "heard 
you  had  a  snap  at  Varek's!" 

"The  work  isn't  hard,"  Janet  explained,  "but  I 
want  to  earn  more  money  if  I  can.  You  see,  I  am  not 
so  lucky  as  you  are.  Living  at  home,  you  don't  have 
any  expenses  to  speak  of." 

80 


A  Stenographer's  Point  of  View 

"Goes  on  my  back,"  laughed  Amy.  "You  do 
have  it  kinder  hard,  though,"  she  continued,  "and  you 
ain  't  like  some  of  'em.  What  do  you  get  at  Varek  's  ? " 

"Forty." 

' '  Phew ! ' '  Amy  whistled ; ' '  and  you  make  two  ends 
meet  on  that?"  She  had  heard  some  nasty  remarks 
from  the  two  in  the  outer  office  at  Varek 's,  but  in  a 
coarse  sort  of  way  she  was  a  judge  of  character,  and 
she  liked  Janet.  She  did  her  the  justice  of  not 
believing. 

"It's  about  looking  for  something  else  that  I 
wanted  to  see  you,"  said  Janet.  "You  know  about 
employment  agencies — do  you  think  I  could  get  any- 
thing that  way  ? ' ' 

The  other  shook  her  head  doubtfully.  "I  don't 
know  about  your  getting  more  salary,"  she  said. 
"You  might  try  for  it  though;  it  wouldn't  do  any 
harm.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Janet,  your  kind  of  a 
job  ain't  easy  to  get;  there 're  too  many  looking  for 
snaps;  it's  your  face '11  get  you  in  if  anything  does. 
Oh,  I  ain't  sayin*  anything  wrong,"  she  exclaimed,  in 
answer  to  Janet's  flush.  "Why  look  here,  when  the 
old  man  was  after  some  one  for  May's  place,  didn't 
I  have  fits  listening  to  him  over  the  telephone? 
'Very  well,  very  well,'  says  he,  with  his  shake-out- 
my-ruffles-and-take-snuff  air.  '  She  must  be  thor- 
oughly prepossessing  in  appearance;  if  she  is  pretty 
I  will  consider  her.  I  make  it  a  rule  to  have  only 
6  81 


The  Winning  Chance 

good-looking  faces  in  the  office.  It  is  merely  busi- 
ness,'— and  they  sent  Jones  over  here,  and  though 
she's  a  cat  and  shucks  at  work,  she's  stayed.  Why, 
I  know  a  girl  who's  the  best  stenographer  in  town, 
but  she's  ugly,  and  she'll  have  to  wait  around  while 
baby-snatchers  like  Jones  get  in  ahead  of  her." — The 
baby-snatcher  in  question  had  departed. 

"It's  true,  I  reckon,"  said  Janet. 

"Of  course  it's  true.  A  lot  of  it  ain't  straight, 
but  mostly  it's  just  that  men  like  good  looks  about 
'em.  I  don't  blame  a  man  for  preferring  to  look  six 
days  in  the  week  into  a  pretty  face  instead  of  a  mug, 
do  you?" 

"No,"  said  Janet  smiling,  "certainly  not.  But, 
Amy,  give  me  the  names  of  those  agencies,  will  you  ? ' ' 

"Well  there's  Burton  &  Clark— they're  the  best; 
then  there's  Drake  &  Co.  Go  to  them  and  tell  'em 
to  look  out  for  something,  and  you'll  call  'em  up. 
Dress  up  as  good  as  you  can  and  give  them  your  ref- 
erences. Say,  though,"  Amy  added,  "if  you  skip 
Varek's,  he  won't  give  you  a  send  off,  and  the  old 
man's  the  only  other  one,  and  he's  away." 

"I'll  have  to  do  without,"  said  Janet. 

"It  won't  be  so  easy,"  Amy  rejoined;  "but  you 
may  have  luck." 

"You  don't  know  of  anything  yourself,  do  you, 
Amy?" 

' '  Nixie.    If  I  did  I  'd  a  told  you. ' ' 
82 


A  Stenographer's  Point  of  View 

"Well,"  said  Janet,  getting  up,  "I  am  making 
you  late,  Amy,  and  I  thank  you  ever  so  much." 

"Now  look  here,"  Amy  said,  struck  by  the  other 
girl's  tired  face,  "don't  get  down.  First  thing  you 
know,  if  I  go  on  getting  fat,  I'll  be  coming  to  you 
for  comfort;  the  old  man '11  be  looking  out  for  an- 
other beauty. ' ' 

"I  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  that,"  smiled  Janet,  the 
Irish  in  her  coming  to  the  fore.  "That  figure  of 
yours  will  put  the  rest  to  shame  even  when  you're 
sixty." 

' '  Get  out ! "  said  Amy,  highly  pleased.  ' '  Say,  if  I 
hear  of  anything  I'll  get  word  to  you." 

"And,  Amy,  you  won't  let  it  get  to  Varek's,  will 
you?  It  would  only  do  harm." 

"Sure!  "What  do  you  take  me  for?  I'm  no  two- 
face,"  exclaimed  Amy,  with  scorn. 

Janet  interviewed  Messrs.  Burton  &  Clark,  and 
Drake  &  Co.,  and  paid  her  fee.  Their  verdict  was 
much  the  same  as  Amy's,  but  they  would  look  around 
for  her,  and  might  have  a  list  for  her  next  week. 
"You  don't  look  up  to  much  hard  work,"  said  Mr. 
Burton;  and  Drake,  whom  Janet  disliked  at  sight, 
remarked  that  she  was  "pretty  enough  for  any  place." 

But  each  day  brought  its  difficulties  at  the  office. 
For  the  first  day  or  two  Varek  observed  Janet  with 
surprised  interest,  but  before  the  week  was  out  he 
was  stirred  completely  out  of  himself.  She  had  made 

83 


The  Winning  Chance 

him  white  with  rage,  alive  to  his  finger  tips  with  ad- 
miration, and  wild  for  some  response  to  his  growing 
need  of  her;  but  above  all  she  had  aroused  the  ugly, 
fighting  man  hi  him,  and  that  was  no  small  part  of 
Varek. 

Just  how  she  had  done  all  this,  he  could  not  have 
told,  any  more  than  Janet  could  have  told  why,  with 
scarcely  a  word,  he  had  terrified  her  all  those  weeks. 
She  was  quiet,  respectful  when  she  had  to  speak  to  Tn'm 
about  her  work,  her  eyes  met  him  fairly,  but  when 
he  sought  too  much  in  their  depths  she  gave  him  her 
lashes  to  study.  Her  hands  were  steady,  her  face 
composed,  and  of  their  talk  a  few  days  before  she 
seemed  to  be  entirely  oblivious. 

Twice  he  could  not  contain  himself  and  let  out 
something  of  his  feelings,  and  the  girl  had  answered 
him  like  a  flash,  and  her  few  words  cut;  then  she 
had  walked  out  of  his  office,  and  busied  herself  over 
the  ledgers  in  the  next  room  until  he  should  cool 
down.  To  Varek 's  still  greater  fury,  Ehrenstein  was 
simultaneously  seized  with  a  desire  to  consult  the  same 
dry  columns  of  figures.  It  dawned  on  him  that  Janet 
was  no  longer  afraid  of  him,  and  why? 

He  walked  his  office  floor  on  Saturday  night,  and 
swore  over  his  luxurious  dinner  at  the  club,  of  which 
he  partook  in  solitude.  He  spent  his  Sunday  asking 
himself  how  many  kinds  of  a  fool  he  was  that  he  had 
never  been  before.  When  he  had  told  Ehrenstein 

84 


A  Stenographer's  Point  of  View 

and  Braun  the  result  of  his  financial  cogitations  a 
few  days  before,  Ehrenstein  had  said  with  genuine 
admiration,  "I'd  give  every  cent  I'm  worth  for  your 
head !  How  in  thunder  do  you  do  it  ?  Gee !  that 's  a 
load  off  my  mind! — and  say,  but  I'll  sing  light  and 
easy  on  '  'Change'  to-morrow,"  and  he  had  swung 
out  humming  the  well  known  '  'Change'  lullaby — 

" '  It  sounds  to  me — 
Like  a  lie!  '" 

Ehrenstein  and  Braun  were  not  alone  in  their  appre- 
ciation of  his  iron  nerve  and  level  head,  and  here  he 
was  mad  over  a  girl! — and  such  a  little  helpless  girl 
too! 

Those  weeks  of  intercourse,  one-sided  though  it 
was,  had  had  their  effect  upon  Varek.  In  the  begin- 
ning it  was  a  mixture  of  motives  that  had  made  him 
wish  to  keep  the  girl  to  himself,  and  among  these 
curiosity  was  perhaps  the  strongest.  From  the  day 
that  Janet  had  first  entered  his  presence,  there  had 
been  a  reason  for  his  interest  in  her  that  was  entirely 
aside  from  her  personal  attraction,  though  his  almost 
oriental  appreciation  of  form  and  color  had  instantly 
granted  to  her  beauty  the  recognition  it  deserved. 
As  time  passed  Varek 's  rather  complicated  motives 
resolved  themselves  into  a  single  desire,  and  with 
Varek,  to  wish  for  a  thing  meant  to  set  about  pro- 
curing it. 

85 


The  Winning  Chance 

To  take  what  he  could  get  by  any  means,  provided 
he  did  no  injury  to  himself,  was  just  a  part  of  Varek 's 
daily  policy;  to  profit  by  the  misfortunes  of  others, 
was  only  a  part  of  his  trade.  He  was  simply  con- 
sistent in  carrying  his  principles  into  every  relation 
of  life.  Varek  was  at  least  no  hypocrite. 

As  he  walked  his  office  floor  in  frowning  medita- 
tion, the  fact  that  he  had  lost  his  head — for  so  he  put 
it  to  himself — troubled  him  far  more  than  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  was  endeavoring  to  force  a  helpless  girl 
into  his  arms;  he  considered  that  he  was  offering  her 
an  equivalent,  though  not  exactly  a  fair  one.  That, 
however,  was  her  lookout,  not  his.  Varek  paused  at 
this  point,  and  characterized  his  own  feelings  very 
briefly  to  himself,  and  yet  he  knew  that  he  had  left 
the  whole  truth  unspoken.  It  made  him  uneasy,  the 
strength  of  the  thing  that  had  risen  up  and  taken  him 
by  the  throat,  for  it  had  no  precedent  so  far  in  his 
life.  If  by  any  chance  he  let  that  little,  blue-eyed 
thing  slip  through  his  fingers,  and  some  one  else's 
arms  caught  her,  some  one  who  had  the  right  to  hold 
her  that  he  had  not,  then  how  would  it  be  with  him  ? 


VIII. 

AN  ERRONEOUS  CONCLUSION 

"UGH!"  said  Mr.  Drake,  "that  snow's  worse  than 
rain."  He  was  shaking  his  shabby  coat  vigorously, 
sending  the  little  piles  of  melting  snow  with  which  it 
was  covered  into  the  utmost  corners  of  his  dirty  little 
office.  He  had  just  opened  up  for  Monday  morning, 
and  the  weather  promised  a  change  to  rain,  and  a 
consequent  scarcity  of  customers.  The  day  was  mild 
and  the  huge  flakes  of  snow  melted  almost  before  they 
reached  the  piles  of  frozen  mud  that  were  rapidly 
thawing. 

Janet,  as  she  climbed  the  dingy  flight  of  stairs  to 
Drake's  office,  looked  with  no  more  favor  than  he  on 
the  signs  of  the  weather.  She  had  some  experience 
of  a  sudden  thaw  in  that  climate  and  had  no  wish 
for  another. 

Mr.  Drake  received  her  with  a  smile  that  added 
no  attraction  to  his  ferret  face.  His  had  been  a 
checkered  career,  and  he  was  a  man  of  many  voca- 
tions, none  of  them  particularly  open  to  inspection; 
but  in  spite  of  his  acuteness  Mr.  Drake  rarely  found 
his  pockets  well  lined.  Therefore  he  was  apt  to  ob- 
serve any  little  points  in  his  customers  that  might 
promise  remunerative  examination. 

87 


The  Winning  Chance 

Now  Janet  had  struck  him  as  unusual,  and  this 
morning  as  she  threw  back  her  heavy  veil,  and  he 
marked  her  pure  beauty,  etched  in  black  and  white, 
and  the  singular  deep  blue  of  her  eyes,  Mr.  Drake's 
acumen  received  a  fillip. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have  a  place  for  you,"  he  said, 
in  answer  to  her  question;  "but  I  have  got  to  see  the 
man  myself.  It's  a  sort  of  secretaryship  and  the  pay 
is  better  than  you  are  getting  now" — Mr.  Drake  was 
good  at  improvisation. 

Janet  looked  her  relief  and  asked  when  she  could 
hear  something  definite. 

"Not  till  to-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Drake.  "I  wish 
you  could  get  a  recommendation  from  Mr.  Varek, 
though,"  and  he  paid  particular  attention  to  Janet's 
flush.  She  lowered  her  veil  and  rose  to  go,  for  she 
had  already  told  him  that  there  would  be  none,  and 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said. 

"Never  mind,  we'll  manage  without  it,"  he 
assured  her;  "but  don't  take  anything  until  you  have 
looked  into  this." 

He  waited  until  he  heard  Janet  well  on  her  way 
downstairs,  and  then  turning  to  the  telephone  called 
up  Varek 's  office. 

"Hello,  this  Varek  &  Co.?"  he  asked.  "Yes? 
Well,  can  I  speak  to  Mr.  Varek  himself  ? ' ' 

"Hello,  this  is  Varek,  what  is  it?"  came  in  Varek 's 
incisive  tones. 

88 


An  Erroneous  Conclusion 

"Mr.  Varek,  this  is  Drake  &  Co.,  employment 
agency.  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you  but  want  to  ask 
about  a  girl  in  your  office  for  whom  we  have  a  place. 
Could  you  give  her  work  any  recommendation? 
Says  her  name  is  Janet  Carew." 

There  was  an  appreciable  pause,  during  which  Mr. 
Drake  smiled.  Then  the  answer  came  shortly,  "No, 
I  have  nothing  to  say  of  her  work." 

"Well  it  won't  make  any  real  difference.  It's 
a  place  that  means  good  pay  and  she  will  have  a  stage 
chance  if  it's  in  her.  Sorry  to  have " 

"Wait  a  moment;  who  is  this  talking — Mr. 
Drake?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  find  a  young  man  who 
could  fill  a  vacant  place  in  my  office?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  so.    What  kind  of  work  is  it?" 

"Well — I  think  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  see 
you  about  it  myself.  I  may  be  able  to  come  this  af- 
ternoon. You  will  be  in? — All  right,"  and  Varek 
rang  off. 

Mr.  Drake  put  up  the  receiver  with  rather  an  un- 
steady hand.  He  was  a  good  deal  taken  aback  at  his 
own  temerity,  and  the  prospect  of  the  approaching 
interview.  He  knew  Leo  Varek  by  sight,  as  the 
smaller  fry  are  apt  to  know  the  big,  and  he  stood 
in  wholesome  awe  of  him,  but  he  had  shot  the  mark 
and  would  abide  by  his  guns.  Nothing  won,  nothing 
lost,  reflected  Mr.  Drake. 

89 


The  Winning  Chance 

Meantime  Janet  was  making  her  way  as  fast  as 
possible  through  snow  and  slush  to  the  office.  She 
was  late,  but  to  her  relief  Varek  was  not  there,  nor 
did  he  come  into  her  room  all  day.  She  had  risen 
earlier  than  usual,  and  indulged  in  no  car-ride  and  she 
was  dreadfully  tired.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the 
miserable,  rainy  day  would  never  pass.  In  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  she  called  up  Burton  &  Clark  and 
received  so  curt  an  answer  that  it  left  her  surprised 
and  hurt.  They  thought  they  could  get  nothing  for 
her,  and  they  rang  off.  She  felt  too  wretched  to 
wonder,  and  longed  to  be  at  home,  but  Amy  had 
telephoned  that  she  wanted  to  see  her,  and  she  must 
lose  no  chance. 

Varek  came  into  his  office  before  she  left,  and  in 
passing  through  he  stopped  her.  "Will  you  wait  a 
while?"  he  asked.  "I  want  to  have  a  talk  with 
you." 

It  was  exactly  what  Janet  did  not  want  and  what 
she  had  been  trying  to  avoid  for  a  week,  and  her  face 
showed  it. 

"Is  it  anything  about  my  work?"  she  asked,  and 
Varek  flushed  dully  at  her  tone.  He  had  had  a 
particularly  trying  day,  for  he  did  not  take  kindly 
to  being  held  up.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to 
lose  his  temper,  but  her  manner  was  like  fire  to  tinder. 

"It  might  pay  you  to  listen,"  he  sneered,  getting 
up. 

90 


An  Erroneous  Conclusion 

"I  shall  certainly  be  pleased  to  some  other  time," 
she  replied  in  her  soft  drawl,  "but  this  evening  I  have 
an  engagement.  Please  excuse  me,"  and  she  went 
out,  not  troubling  to  close  the  door  behind  her. 

Varek  stood  up  shaking  and  saw  her  go.  Then 
he  closed  his  door  and  got  into  his  things.  He  was 
breathing  hard.  "By  heaven,  I'll  make  you  listen!" 
he  said  through  his  set  teeth. 

He  gained  the  street  only  a  few  moments  after 
Janet,  but  when  he  turned  in  the  direction  she  always 
took,  she  was  not  in  sight.  He  stopped  and  looked 
behind  him,  and  then  stood  quite  still,  so  sudden  was 
the  impression  that  smote  him.  The  girl  was  walking 
quickly  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  swinging  along 
beside  her,  his  hand  under  her  elbow,  guiding  her 
among  the  pools  on  the  sidewalk,  was  Ehrenstein. 

Varek  lifted  his  hat  a  little  from  his  head  as  if 
the  act  might  in  some  way  clear  the  vision  from  his 
brain,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  Ehrenstein.  A 
wave  of  fire  swept  him  from  head  to  foot,  turning 
things  red.  If  Ehrenstein  had  stood  within  reach, 
Varek 's  fingers  would  have  been  on  his  throat.  With 
the  blind  instinct  of  fury  he  turned  after  them,  and 
he  had  covered  half  the  block  before  some  sort  of 
reason  asserted  itself.  There  were  other  and  better 
ways  than  violence.  He  was  still  possessed  of  a  sen- 
sation like  nothing  he  had  ever  known  before,  but  he 
could  think. 

91 


The  Winning  Chance 

He  walked  more  slowly,  for  the  two  had  reached 
the  corner  and  stood  talking  earnestly.  Suddenly  they 
turned  back  and  came  toward  him,  and  obeying  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  he  stepped  into  a  doorway 
and  they  passed  close  beside  him.  Janet's  eyes  were 
downcast  and  her  whole  look  was  disquieted,  an  ex- 
pression from  which  Yarek  drew  his  own  conclusions, 
as  did  he  also  from  Ehrenstein's  low-toned  earnest- 
ness. He  bent  close  to  the  girl  as  they  moved  along, 
the  Jewish  curve  of  his  back  more  evident  than  usual. 
Varek  stepped  out  and  followed  them. 

So  this  was  what  it  meant.  She  had  tricked  him 
all  those  weeks  as  she  sat  beside  him,  her  long  lashes 
dark  against  her  cheek  and  her  voice  so  low.  He 
had  scarcely  known  how  to  approach  her,  she  seemed 
so  apart  from  anything  he  had  ever  known — and 
what  of  it  ?  She  had  taken  his  money  and  played  the 
prude,  while  she  drew  that  Jew  into  her  net.  She 
was  clever  enough  to  know  that  Ehrenstein  could  give 
her  the  one  thing  he  could  not,  and  as  for  money, 
Ehrenstein  had  enough  for  her  needs.  It  seemed  to 
Varek  that  he  would  swear  aloud  or  choke.  He 
splashed  through  pools  and  running  water — for  the 
gutters  were  floods — with  utter  unconsciousness. 

They  turned  up  to  Broadway  and  Varek  kept  the 
other  side  of  the  street.  If  they  took  a  car  out  North 
Broadway,  they  must  cross  to  his  corner.  They 
stopped,  seeking  a  crossing,  and  then  picked  their  way 

92 


An  Erroneous  Conclusion 

over,  Ehrenstein  officiously,  after  his  usual  manner, 
leading  the  way.  Varek  stepped  into  the  corner  drug 
store  and  standing  close  to  the  window  never  moved 
his  eyes  from  them.  He  could  see  their  faces  well  and 
now  Janet  was  speaking.  Ehrenstein  was  not  tall, 
but  the  girl  had  to  turn  her  face  up  to  look  into  his, 
and  in  spite  of  the  feelings  that  were  tearing  him, 
Varek  noted  the  soft  curve  of  her  lifted  chin.  She 
was  gazing  into  his  face  with  an  absorbed  look  she 
had  never  given  him,  and  Ehrenstein  gazed  back,  his 
hands  and  shoulders  expressive  of  his  interest. 

The  druggist  whose  window  Varek  had  pre-empted, 
got  into  line  with  his  absorbed  visitor's  face  and  had 
a  shock.  He  didn't  know  much  about  deeds  of  vio- 
lence, but  he  would  hate  to  be  responsible  for  that 
look,  and  he  followed  its  direction  for  a  cause. 

A  diversion  now  took  place  on  the  sidewalk.  A 
pretty  well-filled  car  drew  up,  and  the  crowd  that  had 
evidently  been  kept  waiting  because  of  some  stoppage, 
made  a  rush  for  it.  The  gutter  here  ran  full  three 
feet  wide  and  accidents  happened.  One  man  splashed 
plumb  into  the  middle  of  the  dirty  flood,  and  a  woman 
screamed  as  her  rubber  floated  away.  A  slim  young 
Jewish  dude  who  was  talking  to  a  very  pretty,  plainly- 
dressed  girl,  gave  one  look  at  the  water,  then  catching 
his  partner  round  the  waist,  swung  her  clear  of  it 
and  landed  her  on  the  car,  an  act  that  was  loudly 
applauded  from  the  sidewalk.  The  man  beside  the 

93 


The  Winning  Chance 

druggist  uttered  a  queer  choking  sound  and  dashed 
out  of  the  door,  but  the  car  had  started.  If  he  had 
intended  to  run  after  it,  he  changed  his  mind,  for  he 
stood  as  if  undecided  until  a  second  North  Broadway 
car  drew  up,when  glancing  at  the  name  the  man  sprang 
lightly  over  the  three  feet  of  water,  and  boarded  it. 

Varek  made  his  way  through  and  stood  beside  the 
motorman.  The  front  car  stopped  again  for  passen- 
gers, and  they  crept  slowly  along.  They  passed  the 
market  still  crawling,  the  first  car  well  in  sight. 

"I  suppose,"  said  a  thick  voice  at  the  motor- 
man's  shoulder,  "that  it  would  be  possible  to  keep 
within  a  block  of  that  car  ahead  there,  for  six  blocks?" 

The  man  turned  his  big  red  face  and  looked  into 
Varek 's  eyes.  A  flicker  of  the  eyelids  then  drew 
the  man's  look  downward,  and  it  rested  on  a  bill  the 
size  of  which  caused  a  thrill  to  run  down  his  fat  back. 
He  cast  a  cautious  glance  on  either  side,  and  another 
look  into  Varek 's  white  face,  and  the  conductor  was 
given  a  start.  They  speeded  up  contrary  to  all  rules, 
and  dashed  over  Franklin  Avenue,  directly  across  the 
nose  of  a  car  that  was  about  to  turn  in  just  ahead,  and 
so  on  down  the  block,  oblivious  of  a  distracted  woman 
and  three  children  who  stood  waving  on  the  corner. 

The  next  crossing  was  reached  and  half  the  block 
traversed  before  the  conductor  gained  the  front  plat- 
form. "What  in  hell's  the  matter?"  he  demanded. 
"Why  you  nearly  dished  us  back  there!" 

94 


An  Erroneous  Conclusion 

"I  lost  hold  a  minute,  it's  all  right  now,"  said  the 
motorman. 

"Lost  hold!"  fumed  the  conductor.  "Have  you 
had  too  much?" 

He  drew  up  to  take  on  passengers  and  the  conduc- 
tor kept  an  irate  eye  on  him,  but  they  were  now  well 
up  near  the  other  car,  and  skilful  management  kept 
the  right  distance  for  the  next  two  blocks.  Then  the 
car  in  front  of  them  let  off  a  young  man  and  woman, 
and  when  theirs  reached  the  same  corner  Varek  got  off. 

As  he  had  expected,  Ehrenstein  went  up  the  wide, 
broken,  stone  steps  and  entered  with  Janet,  and  Varek 
stood  across  the  street  ankle-deep  in  muddy  water.  It 
was  not  raining,  but  if  it  had  been,  it  is  doubtful  if 
Varek  would  have  known  it.  He  waited  a  long  time 
and  it  grew  quite  dark;  then  he  crossed  the  street 
and  waited  a  while  longer  at  a  safe  distance.  At 
last  Ehrenstein  came  hurrying  out,  turning  up  his 
coat  collar  as  he  made  off  in  the  direction  of  the  car. 
Then  Varek  followed  after.  The  longing  to  spring 
upon  him  from  behind  was  one  of  the  hardest  things 
Varek  had  ever  had  to  conquer.  He  had  waited,  for 
he  could  not  go  knowing  that  Ehrenstein  was  still 
with  Janet,  but  as  he  stood  in  the  wet,  he  had  said 
over  and  over  again  to  himself,  ' '  I  can  hit  him  harder 
in  another  way." 

He  carried  his  fury  of  rage  and  jealousy  back  with 
him,  and  as  he  sat  in  his  room,  Janet's  room,  looking 

95 


The  Winning  Chance 

into  the  blazing  fire,  the  pictures  that  imagination 
drew  of  her  in  another's  arms,  another's  hands  in 
her  hair,  against  her  cheek — and  that  other  such  as 
Ehrenstein — drove  him  up  and  down,  up  and  down, 
far  into  the  night.  Later  when  he  was  more  calm  he 
could  think  and  plan,  but  not  now.  Some  words  that 
he  had  listened  to  in  what  seemed  to  him  to  have  been 
another  existence  sounded  in  his  ears — "but  she  is 
clever  too — very  clever.  She  hasn't  starved  so  far 

and  she  won't "    So  that  man  was  right,  and 

he,  Varek,  was  all  wrong — and  under  all  his  jealous 
rage  there  was  a  sickening  sense  of  disappointment 
that  grew  more  poignant  as  the  hours  passed.  What 
was  it  he  had  dreamed  he  would  take  and  hold  for 
himself? — certainly  not  the  vision  that  man's  words 
had  conjured  up;  there  had  always  been  too  much 
of  that  material  ready  to  his  hand. 


IX. 

A  PLEA  AND  A  DEMAND 

"I  DON'T  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Janet.  "I 
think  you  are  insane !  You  say  I  have  lied  to  you,  and 
deceived  you,  and  used  my  place  here  to  work  out  my 
own  ends — all  this  about  Mr.  Ehrenstein — I  don't 
know  what  you  are  talking  about — you  raging  here 
before  me.  I  have  done  nothing  in  your  office  or 
out  of  it,  of  which  I  am  ashamed." 

They  stood  facing  each  other  at  last,  the  girl  white, 
shaking,  her  eyes  aflame,  and  Varek,  his  face  livid 
and  convulsed,  his  hands  clinched.  His  night  of  tor- 
ment had  passed  somehow,  and  at  the  first  sight  of 
her  the  storm  burst. 

"You  sat  here  for  weeks,"  said  Varek  hoarsely, 
"and  you  wouldn't  so  much  as  let  me  touch  you  with 
a  finger,  and  all  the  time  you  were  intriguing  with 
that  Jew,  with  his  loud  ties  and  his  flat-footed  self- 
sufficiency.  I  thought  you  better  than  anything  I 
had  ever  known ;  every  day  that  passed  I  wanted  you 
more  just  to  take  away  out  of  this  dirt  and  cherish — 
and  all  the  time  you  were  his  to  touch  or  kiss.  Yes, 
I've  gone  mad  all  right,  but  whatever  comes  to  you 
or  him,  you've  got  to  tell  me  the  truth  to-day.  Look 
me  in  the  eye  and  answer  me — 111  know  it  if  you  lie 
7  97 


The  Winning  Chance 

to  me,"  and  he  put  his  big  hands  on  her  shoulders 
and  turned  her  face  to  the  light. 

As  he  had  gone  on  her  anger  had  turned  to  amaze- 
ment, and  then  to  disgusted  understanding.  The 
weary  weight  of  trouble  that  had  dragged  itself  along 
with  her  that  morning  returned  to  her,  and  that  bur- 
den, and  the  pressure  of  his  heavy  hands,  were  more 
than  she  could  bear. 

"Let  me  sit  down,"  she  begged,  with  quivering 
lips.  "I  am  so  tired." 

Varek  drew  a  quick  breath  and  pushed  her  into  a 
chair,  but  as  he  sat  before  her  he  did  not  move  his 
hand  from  her  shoulder,  and  his  eyes  held  hers.  There 
was  a  hopeless  weariness  in  their  depths,  but  he  found 
nothing  else. 

"I  think  I  know  now  what  you  mean,"  said  the 
girl,  dully,  "though  even  if  it  were  true,  some  of  it, 
which  it  is  not,  I  cannot  see  your  right  to  take  me  to 
task.  When  have  I  given  you  any  such  right  ?  I  will 
explain  because  it  is  only  what  I  was  going  to  tell 
you  when  I  came  in.  Mr.  Ehrenstein  is  no  more  to 
me — than  you  are.  No,  he  is  less,  for  there  have  been 
times  when  you  were  kind,  and  I  liked  you.  I 
scarcely  know  him.  In  all  the  time  I  have  been  here 
I  haven't  spoken  half  a  dozen  words  to  him  until 
yesterday.  It  was  true  what  I  told  you — that  I  had 
an  engagement.  I  was  going  to  see  a  girl  who  is  help- 
ing me  to  get  a  place,  and  that  is  another  thing 

98 


A  Plea  and  a  Demand 

I  was  going  to  tell  you  to-day — that  I  could  not  stay 
here  any  longer. 

"When  I  went  out  Mr.  Ehrenstein  must  have 
followed  me,  for  he  came  up  behind  me  and  asked  if 
he  could  tell  me  something  that  I  ought  to  know.  It 
was  about  my  brother  Paul,  and  it  was  dreadful.  Mr. 
Ehrenstein  said  that  he  knew  the  man  that  Paul  has 
seen  so  much  of  lately ;  he  is  in  this  man 's  room  every 
night,  and  I  had  never  suspected.  They  gamble  all 
night  sometimes.  I  don't  know  where  Paul  got  the 
money  at  first,  but  only  a  night  or  two  ago  he  was 
there,  and  there  were  several  playing,  and  Paul  lost 
to  them,  and  this  man,  Doane,  taunted  him.  Then 
Paul  left  and  came  back  with  money,  and  Mr.  Ehren- 
stein saw  the  envelope,  and  it  had  your  firm's  name 
on  it.  He  said  he  thought  it  was  queer,  but  it  did 
strike  him  at  first  that  it  might  be  my  salary — only 
there  was  more  than  that.  It  was  over  a  hundred 
dollars — and  Paul  lost  it  all — every  cent.  He  said 
he  spoke  to  Paul  and  to  Doane  too,  but  Paul  was 
furious ;  then  he  made  up  his  mind  to  tell  me.  He  is 
vulgar,  I  know,  and  forward,  but  he  spoke  kindly  to 
me  and  I  think  he  meant  kindly,  and  I  shall  always 
remember  it,"  she  paused,  drawing  her  breath  in  a 
heavy  sigh,  and  Varek  took  his  hand  from  her 
shoulder. 

"I  did  not  know  what  to  do,"  she  said;  "for  gam- 
bling is  a  dreadful  thing  in  our  family.  It  has 

99 


The  Winning  Chance 

ruined  so  many  of  us,  and  with  Paul  it  would  just  be 

insanity — and  if  mother  should  find  out "  she 

shuddered  violently.  ' '  Then  I  thought  if  Mr.  Ehren- 
stein  would  speak  to  that  man  and  ask  him  to  let 
Paul  alone,  perhaps  he  would.  He  says  this  Doane  is 
really  a  brilliant  man  and  well  educated,  and  could 
do  almost  anything,  but  he  will  do  nothing  but  gamble, 
and  just  now  he  is  down  in  his  luck.  It  was  he  that 
Mr.  Ehrenstein  went  into  our  house  to  see  last  night, 
and  not  me,  and  it  was  kindness  to  me  that  made  him 
go.  It  is  because  you  think  the  worst  of  others  that 
you  suffer  yourself;  wretched  as  I  am,  I  think  I  am 
sorry  for  you."  She  looked  with  a  little  twisted 
smile  into  Varek's  face,  from  which  the  swollen  lines 
were  slowly  disappearing.  He  got  up  with  a  groan 
and  leaning  his  arm  on  the  mantel  laid  his  head  on  it. 

There  was  silence  for  a  time,  and  then  Janet  went 
on.  "I  have  engaged  to  go  to  another  place — to- 
morrow— and  I  must  arrange  about  that  money  that 
Paul — that  I  lost.  I  don't  understand  about  there 
being  so  much;  I  didn't  unfold  the  bills  when  I  put 
them  away.  I  wanted  to  return  them  to  you  just 
as  you  gave  them  to  me.  Did  you  put  in  more  than 
my  salary  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I  did,"  said  Yarek,  in  a  smothered  voice. 
He  lifted  his  head  with  an  impatient  gesture,  looking 
down  at  her.  "Don't  think  of  it,"  he  said. 

"I  was  afraid  so,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low  voice, 

100 


A  Plea  and  a  Demand 

"and  you  have  thought  all  this  week  that  I  knew  it 
and  was  taking  advantage."  She  paused  and  took 
something  from  her  purse,  and  her  voice  was  clearer. 
"Mr.  Varek,  will  you  look  at  this,  please;  it  is  some- 
thing we  have  had  a  long  time,"  and  she  held  it  up 
to  him  in  the  palm  of  her  hand.  It  was  a  miniature, 
an  exquisite  little  thing,  a  girl's  face  with  hair  dressed 
high  in  the  fashion  of  a  century  before,  and  the  great, 
wide  eyes  looked  up  at  him  from  Janet's  own  face. 

"It's  like  you,  Peggy,"  he  said. 

"It  was  my  great-grandmother  Carew,  and  I  know 
it  is  well  painted.  Mr.  Yarek,  I  don't  know  if  it  is 
worth  as  much  as  that  money — but  you  collect  such 
things — would  you  please  take  this  in  place  of  it?" 

Varek  stared  into  her  earnest  face  for  a  moment, 
going  red,  then  white,  then  with  a  half  laugh,  half  sob, 
he  flung  himself  down  and  gathered  her  in  his  arms. 
"Oh,  money,  money!"  he  said,  "what  does  it  matter! 
— Peggy,  I  have  you  again — just  my  little  girl — my 
honest,  sweet  little  girl — and  I  have  not  been  mis- 
taken in  her  all  these  weeks.  That  creature  that  tor- 
mented me  last  night  is  gone  forever.  Peggy,  will 
you  forgive  me,  dear — will  you  have  patience  with 
me?"  He  held  her  close,  his  lips  on  her  cheek. 

She  had  struggled  in  his  hold  at  first,  but  he  had 
touched  something  in  her  beside  fear,  and  if  it  was  to 
be  now,  might  she  have  courage  to  meet  it.  She  was 
quiet,  waiting  for  him  to  gain  calmness.  Of  her 

101 


The  Winning  Chance 

mother,  of  Paul,  of  their  necessities,  she  would  not 
think.  The  fallen  miniature  smiled  up  at  her  from 
the  floor,  an  emblem  of  her  integrity,  and  she  fastened 
her  eyes  upon  it. 

Varek  loosened  his  hold  at  last  and  knelt  beside 
her,  still  panting ;  he  took  her  hand  in  his  and  held  it 
against  his  hot  cheek.  With  all  his  strength  he  was 
trying  to  keep  control  of  himself ;  Janet  moved  softly 
to  rise. 

"Oh,  no,  Peggy,  listen  to  me!"  he  said,  passion- 
ately. "Don't  be  afraid  to  stay  with  me  a  little 
while !  You  must  hear  me  now ;  there  is  nothing  will 
hinder  me  from  speaking.  In  all  this  time  I  think 
I  have  been  trying  with  ugly  words  and  thoughts  to 
cover  up  what  has  been  growing  in  me,  but  it's  too 
much  for  me.  Last  night  I  faced  it  squarely.  If  I 
can't  have  you  I  don't  want  anything.  I  have  got 
to  have  you ;  it  has  come  to  that  pass  with  me.  .  .  . 
Peggy,  I  want  to  tell  you  a  little  about  myself,  I  mean 
how  I  grew  up,  and  what  sort  of  a  life  I  've  had  of  it ; 
you  may  forgive  me  a  few  things  then.  I  have  fol- 
lowed you  home  often,  not  just  to  pry,  but  because 
you  looked  so  white  and  sick,  and  I  was  afraid.  I've 
seen  the  dirty  houses,  and  the  wretched  women  and 
children,  and  it  was  my  childhood  brought  back.  I 
was  as  poor  as  any  of  those  to  begin  with.  I  sold 
papers,  I  blacked  boots,  I  went  hungry.  I  was  office- 
boy,  errand-boy,  anything  and  everything  that  would 

102 


A  Plea  and  a  Demand 

keep  me  about  Wall  Street,  for  I  had  come  into  the 
world  I  think  with  an  ambition.  As  I  grew  older  I 
was  only  the  more  convinced  that  there  was  just  one 
thing  worth  trying  for  and  that  was  money;  that  it 
brought  power  and  happiness — for  I  had  wanted  ma- 
terial things  so  long  that  the  possession  of  them  seemed 
sweet ;  but  more  than  anything  I  liked  getting  money 
because  I  could  fight  for  it.  I  could  pit  my  brain  and 
nerve  against  others,  and  come  out  ahead.  It's  like 
strong  wine  when  you  get  a  taste  of  it,  but  it's  a  heavy 
enamelling  process.  I  soon  found  I  was  more  clever  at 
the  game  than  most,  but  I  started  handicapped  and 
there  was  one  man  who  nearly  did  for  me.  He  and  I 
have  a  little  account  to  settle  yet.  .  .  .  It  sounds  short 
in  the  telling,  this,  but,  Peggy,  it's  meant  years  of  the 
life  that's  made  me  what  I  am.  I  never  had  affection 
given  me  by  any  one,  I  never  thought  about  it.  The 
women  I  have  known — well,  you  wouldn  't  understand, 
and  I  am  glad  you  can't — it  wasn't  affection  they 
gave  me,  nor  I  them.  Money  doesn't  buy  love,  but  it 
wouldn't  have  mattered  much  if  it  did,  I  didn't  want 
it  particularly.  I  never  wanted  it  until  I  knew  you, 
and  then  I  didn't  know  what  it  was  I  wanted,  and  I 
sought  you  as  I  have  everything  else  I've  wished  for." 
Varek  stopped  and  moistened  his  dry  lips,  but  Janet 
did  not  stir.  He  was  talking  himself  back  to  some 
sort  of  outward  calmness,  but  his  next  words  held  a 

deeper  note. 

103 


The  Winning  Chance 

"Peggy,  in  all  these  years  I've  had  no  home.  It 
was  another  of  the  things  I  didn't  think  about  until 
it  was  too  late,  for  when  I  had  my  chance  I  bartered 
it  away.  I  had  plenty  of  money  and  I  began  to  see 
my  opportunities  here.  I  wanted  to  take  my  place 
among  other  men  of  social  position ;  there  were  certain 
clubs  I  wanted  to  join;  I  wanted  a  chance  to  meet 
men  on  an  equal  social  footing  as  well  as  a  -financial 
one.  It  was  not  for  any  love  of  society  in  the  ordinary 
sense, — that  bores  me  beyond  anything, — but  just  that 
I  had  a  right  to  it  if  I  could  get  it,  and  that  in  the 
things  that  were  going  to  be  doing  in  this  place,  I 
wanted  to  take  my  part,  and  with  social  backing. 

"There  was  a  man  who  could  do  a  lot  for  me  in 
that  direction,  and  he  was  hampered  by  a  slender 
purse  and  an  ambitious,  extravagant  wife  and 
daughter.  It  was  a  bargain  like  any  other;  I  married 
the  daughter  and  gave  them  the  luxuries,  and  I  had 
my  clubs  and  position."  Yarek  was  silent  a  moment 
holding  Janet's  hand  more  tightly.  "I  want  you  to 
understand,  Peggy,  about  my  wife  and  me,"  he  said. 
"The  result  of  such  a  marriage  was  natural.  I  cared 
nothing  for  her,  had  never  cared ;  she  wasn't  disagree- 
able to  me,  that  was  all.  As  for  her,  I  knew  that 
what  affection  she  was  capable  of — and  it  isn  't  much — 
was  engaged  elsewhere;  that  is  what  sentiment  is  left 
over  after  the  satisfied  contemplation  of  her  carriage 
and  pair,  and  a  few  like  accessories."  Varek's  lip 

104 


A  Plea  and  a  Demand 

curled.  "Less  than  a  year  after  our  marriage  we 
reached  an  agreement,  and  I  made  it  a  lasting  one, 
for  I  am  apt  to  know  where  I  stand.  To  outsiders  we 
are  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leo  Varek,  and  I  assume  my  preten- 
tious house,  and  the  absolutely  necessary  public  ap- 
pearances with  Mrs.  Varek  and  the  in-laws,  just  as  I 
put  on  my  dress  coat,  only  not  nearly  so  often.  Money 
is  a  great  smoother  of  difficulties,  and  an  absorbed 
business  man  spends  little  time  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family,  unless  he  particularly  desires  it."  Janet 
moved  restlessly  and  Varek  dropped  his  cutting  tone. 
"Forgive  me,  dear,"  he  said;  "I  put  that  brutally. 
I  didn't  mean  to;  it's  a  state  of  things  so  usual  that 
comment's  out  of  place.  I  have  told  you  enough  and 
I  haven't  smoothed  things.  Peggy,  I  hate  the  life  I've 
been  living ;  I  have  a  sickness  at  the  thought  of  it — all 
except  my  work.  It's  been  growing  on  me  until  it  is 
intolerable,  and  I  didn't  know  what  made  my  disgust 
until  lately.  When  I  would  come  in  here,  and  there 
was  just  you  and  I  and  the  fire  and  the  rain  on  the 
window-pane  outside — then  I  knew.  Little  one,  I 
want  a  home — I  want  some  one  in  it  to  love  with 
every  bit  of  strength  there  is  in  me — I  want  what's 
sweet,  and  true,  and  beautiful,  to  hold  here  close  in 
my  arms.  I  want  all  the  things  I  never  have  had 
before — Peggy,  I  want  you!"  The  girl  could  not 
move  in  his  arms,  but  her  hands  sought  each  other 
and  gripped  hard,  and  her  eyes  never  left  the  floor. 

105 


The  Winning  Chance 

"Peggy,  you  won't  speak  to  me,"  he  went  on, 
breathing  short.  "Listen — I  will  put  Paul  where  he 
can  have  good  influences  and  scientific  care ;  I  am  not 
so  sure  he  cannot  be  cured.  He  shall  have  every  care, 

every  comfort — and  your  mother "  The  hands  in 

Janet's  lap  turned  blue.  "Peggy,  she's  slowly  dying 
where  she  is.  You  shall  give  her  light,  and  air,  and 
sunshine — whatever  your  love  suggests  for  her — and  I 
promise  you  these  things  for  them  for  the  rest  of  their 
lives.  .  .  .  Tour  mother  will  know  nothing. 
There  will  be  some  of  your  father's  money  forthcom- 
ing; I  shall  see  her;  it  will  not  rest  with  you — the 
explanation;  you  will  live  with  friends — all  that  is 
easy.  Peggy,  tell  me  you  will  come ! — You  don't  need 
to  speak — just  look  at  me,  I  shall  know — Peggy,  won't 
you  answer  me?" 

"I  cannot  do  it,"  said  Janet,  slowly  but  clearly. 

He  turned  her  face  up  and  kissed  her  lips.  "You 
think  you  don't  love  me,  and  you're  afraid,  is  that  it? 
You  don't  know  anything  about  love,  little  one;  per- 
haps we  can  learn  together.  It's  the  opinion  of  people 
you  shrink  from,  then?  There  are  only  one  or  two 
that  know  you,  and  you'll  step  out  of  their  lives;  I 
shall  take  care  you  are  shielded." 

"No,"  Janet  reiterated,  "I  cannot  do  it.  You 
might  as  well  let  me  go.  I  cannot." 

"Why?"  said  Varek. 

"It  would  be  living  hatefully — a  lie  to  my  mother 

106 


A  Plea  and  a  Demand 

all  day  long.  It  would  be  the  feeling  in  me  that  I 
was — I  cannot  explain  it  to  you!  What  you  ask  is 
not  right.  It  is  not  what  other  people  think;  it  is 
what  I  feel  here,  in  myself." 

The  dull  red  deepened  in  Varek's  face,  and  his 
look  hardened.  "Did  you  never  conceal  anything 
from  your  mother  when  it  was  for  her  own  good?" 
he  asked.  He  had  risen  and  so  had  Janet. 

"Never  anything  like  this." 

"It's  merely  a  case  of  degree,  then,"  said  Varek, 
"and  your  feelings  are  simply  the  result  of  educa- 
tion. If  you  were  a  Turk,  or  a  Jap,  you  would  feel 
quite  differently.  It's  a  few  conventions  you  are 
balking  at." 

"I  cannot  argue  with  you,"  said  the  girl;  "I  am 
going." 

Varek  studied  her  set  face  in  silence  for  a  time, 
and  the  color  faded  slowly  from  his  own.  "Peggy, 
have  you  any  idea  what  this  means  to  me " 

"I  cannot  help  that,"  she  said.  "It  does  not 
make  it  right,  and  I  must  go." 

He  put  his  arms  about  her  then  and  drew  her  to 
him,  holding  her  close  against  his  breast;  she  felt 
the  hard  quick  beating  of  his  heart  and  the  pressure 
of  his  lips  on  her  cheek.  "Not  for  a  few  minutes, 
dear,"  he  whispered.  "Stop  and  think  what  you  are 
doing  and  what  you  are  going  back  to.  Peggy,  let 
me  take  all  that  burden  and  carry  it  for  you — I  beg 

107 


The  Winning  Chance 

you  to  let  me.  You  have  seen  the  hard  and  ugly  side 
of  me — let  me  show  you  how  different  I  can  be.  ... 
Don't  be  afraid,  sweetheart.  Why,  I  love  you — don't 
you  understand  ?  I  love  you,  little  one !  Is  it  so  bad 
to  be  loved  as  I  will  always  love  you  ? ' '  But  she  only 
stiffened  in  his  embrace,  her  lips  like  ice  under  his, 
and  he  lifted  his  head  at  last  and  looked  down  at  her 
in  a  sort  of  dull  surprise.  She  neither  struggled 
nor  spoke,  but  her  frozen  silence  was  her  answer,  and 
slowly  his  brows  lowered  into  their  black  look.  "It's 
yourself  you  love,  after  all,"  he  said  at  last.  "Your 
feelings,  or  whatever  you  call  them — not  your  mother, 
or  Paul;  by  a  word  you  could  give  them  life — for 
it's  as  bad  as  that  with  them,  and  you  know  it."  He 
spoke  scornfully,  cuttingly. 

Janet  stood  with  bent  head,  her  face  working. 
"My  mother  would  rather  die  than  have  me  do  such 
a  thing, ' '  she  gasped.  ' '  She  loves  me ' ' 

"That's  it,"  said  Varek.  "She  loves  you  better 
than  herself — she 's  superior  to  you  in  that. ' ' 

"Oh!"  cried  the  girl,  wildly,  "stand  out  of  my 
way ! — You  say  you  love  me,  and  you  can  torture  me 
like  this! — Let  me  go!"  She  had  torn  herself  loose 
from  his  hold,  and  groped  her  way  to  the  door  like 
one  blinded.  "Let  me  go,  let  me  go,"  she  repeated. 

"Very  well,  go  if  you  must,"  said  Varek,  dead 
white,  and  through  stiff  lips;  "but,  Peggy,  remember 
what  I  tell  you — I  would  have  saved  you  what  you  will 

108 


A  Plea  and  a  Demand 

go  through  before  you  give  in — I  have  tried  to  to- 
day— but  this  is  my  deal;  I'll  stand  for  it,  and  you 
will  come  to  my  terms ;  you  haven 't  a  single  winning 
chance,  and  there  is  no  power  on  earth  can  make  me 
give  you  up."  He  brought  her  coat  and  drew  it 
on  for  her,  then  lifting  her  up  he  kissed  her  eyes  and 
her  lips,  and  opened  the  door. 


X. 

"YOU  SHALL  GIVE  HER  LIGHT— AND  AIR— 
AND  SUNSHINE" 

A  TERRIFIC  gust  of  wind  swept  round  the  old  house, 
rattling  the  windows  and  whistling  through  crevices. 
One  of  the  big  front  doors  banged  with  a  noise  like 
thunder,  and  Janet  raised  her  head  from  her  pillow 
listening  intently  to  discover  if  her  mother  was  awake. 
That  noise  must  have  waked  her,  Janet  thought,  but 
Mrs.  Carew  did  not  stir,  and  she  dropped  back  again. 
She  did  not  know  what  time  it  was,  for  it  was  very 
late  when  she  lay  down.  The  cold  had  driven  her 
under  the  covers,  but  the  watch  she  was  keeping  over 
her  mother,  and  her  own  thoughts,  banished  sleep. 

The  city  was  in  the  grip  of  a  blizzard,  and  the 
giant  shook  her  and  tossed  her  at  will.  The  sharp 
needle-like  particles  of  snow  drove  frantically  against 
the  window-panes  and  found  their  way  into  every 
smallest  crack.  Missouri  was  indulging  in  a  satur- 
nalia of  ice,  and  wind,  and  snow;  and  poor  mortals 
sought  to  hide  and  warm  themselves  as  best  they 
might.  Even  before  it  was  dark  Janet  had  seen  the 
big  snow-drifts,  and  an  unaccustomed  silence  had 
announced  that  the  cars  had  stopped. 

She  had  not  gone  down-town  that  day,  for  she 
110 


"  Light — and  Air — and  Sunshine  " 

could  not  leave  her  mother,  and  besides  she  could  not 
have  worked  in  that  frigid  warehouse  on  a  biting  day 
like  this.  Her  predecessor  had  left  because  of  the 
cold.  The  little  dark  partition  where  she  had  her 
desk  was  supposed  to  be  heated  by  a  stove,  but  even 
on  an  average  day  the  girl  was  numb  with  cold  from 
morning  until  night,  and  the  night  through  until 
morning;  it  was  a  dull  continuous  ache  of  cold,  and 
she  bore  it  as  she  bore  everything  during  those  days, 
dumbly,  mechanically,  hopelessly.  There  was  only 
one  end  for  them. 

The  agencies  had  declined  to  do  anything  for  her, 
and  she  had  not  understood;  but  wondering  would 
not  help  her,  there  was  enough  else  to  think  of.  She 
had  hoped  that  Paul  of  a  necessity  would  give  up  his 
long  evenings  spent  in  Doane's  room,  now  that  there 
was  no  possibility  of  money  from  her,  but  on  the  con- 
trary he  was  more  absorbed  than  ever,  scarcely  speak- 
ing even  to  his  mother,  and  a  bright  spot  of  color  had 
begun  to  burn  in  his  cheeks.  He  certainly  had  money 
from  some  source.  That  morning  Mrs.  Carew  had 
fainted,  and  though  she  did  not  seem  to  be  ill  in  the 
way  she  had  been  before,  Janet  was  terribly  fright- 
ened; her  mother  had  been  so  quiet  all  day.  Mrs. 
Carew  knew  nothing  of  the  change  to  her  present  mis- 
erable quarters,  and  how  long  could  she  keep  it  from 
her?  The  coal  in  the  stove  was  from  Lizzie's  meagre 
store,  and  the  bread  for  their  supper  came  from  the 

111 


The  Winning  Chance 

same  source.  If  she  could  live  through  the  cold  in 
that  warehouse  on  the  levee,  it  would  be  days  before 
she  could  have  her  pay. 

Janet  did  not  say  as  she  lay  there,  "The  end  had 
come;"  but  all  day  there  had  been  a  voice  in  her  ear, 
thick  in  its  insistent  passion — "It's  yourself  you 
love,"  it  said,  and  again — "By  one  word  you  could 

give  them  life "    A  great  armful  of  his  flowers 

stood  on  the  table,  mocking  their  poverty;  the  icy 
draught  between  the  window  and  the  door  would 
freeze  them  solid  before  morning,  but  now  the  room 
was  heavy  with  their  perfume. 

There  was  a  suppressed  sound  from  her  mother's 
bed,  that  all  the  roar  outside  could  not  cover.  Janet 
crept  from  her  couch  and  bent  over  her.  The  half- 
strangled  sob  came  again.  "Mother,  dear,"  said 
Janet,  "you  are  crying.  What  is  it?"  She  crept  in 
beside  the  convulsed  little  figure  and  wrapped  her 
arms  about  it.  "Tell  me,  Mummie,  tell  me,"  she 
begged. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Mrs.  Carew  could  speak, 

then   she   whispered,    "Paul "    So   her   mother 

knew.  Janet  went  down  into  a  sea  of  misery  and  the 
waves  closed  over  her. 

"I  would  not  complain,"  said  Mrs.  Carew — "our 
poverty,  everything,  I  could  bear — but  such  a  thing 
to  come  to  my  boy,  my  poor  crippled  boy,  to  ruin 
his  soul!  Janet,  I  cannot  endure  it." 

112 


"  Light — and  Air — and  Sunshine  " 

There  was  no  answer,  and  Mrs.  Carew's  broken 
voice  went  on.  "All  day  I  have  lain  here  thinking. 
I  have  turned  in  every  direction  for  help.  Janet  do 
you  know  of  anything  we  can  do?"  Her  daughter 
only  drew  her  closer. 

' '  I  have  thought  of  every  one  we  have  ever  known, 
and  I  cannot  see  a  way.  If  Mr.  Bronson  were  here 
I  think  I  could  force  something  from  him;  I  have 
always  felt  that  he  was  not  open  with  us.  Even  your 
employer,  Mr.  Varek — I  thought  I  might  appeal  to 
him.  He  seems  kind;  he  might  do  something  for 
Paul.  The  blind  are  pitiful,  Jannie,  and  for  my  son 
I  could  bring  myself  to  beg.  If  I  asked  him  to  come 
and  see  me,  do  you  think  he  would  come  ? ' '  Janet  was 
silent. 

"You  won't  say  anything,  Jannie;  you  think  he 

would  refuse  me "  Mrs.  Carew  half  sat  up, 

gasping. 

"He  will  come,  mother,"  said  the  girl,  through 
stiff  lips.  "And  he  will  help  you.  You  must  lie 
down  now,  dear,  and  let  me  keep  you  warm.  You 
see  I  know  him  better  than  you  do,  and  I  know  he 
will  come.  He  is  very  clever  too,  and  a  man — and 
we — we're  such — helpless  women."  She  drew  her 
mother  down  against  her  breast,  softly  kissing  her. 

"You  seem  so  certain,  Jannie." 

"I  am,  dear.  It  will  be  a  way  out  for  all  of  us. 
I  am  going  to  rub  your  forehead  now,  just  gently,  over 
8  113 


The  Winning  Chance 

your  eyes,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep.  You  can 't  afford 
to  be  ill  to-morrow." 

"No,  I  know  I  must  not,  I  will  try  to  sleep, — but, 
Jannie,  how  shall  we  do — will  you  ask  him  to-morrow 
to  come?  I  don't  like  to  have  you  do  that." 

"I — I  don't  know,"  said  Janet  very  low;  "I  want 
to  stay  with  you  as  long  as  I — can.  I  mean  you  are 
not  well  enough.  I  think  he  will  understand  if — if 
I  write — for  you." 

"It  would  be  the  best  way,"  said  Mrs.  Carew,  con- 
sidering. "Jannie,  if  you  really  think  he  will  do 
something  for  Paul — you  don't  know  how  I  should 
feel!" 

"Yes — I — do.  Mother,  you  will — always — love — 
me  too?" 

"Jannie!  How  can  you  ask!  There  is  nothing 
could  stop  my  loving  you — you  and  Paul.  Don't  you 
know  that  the  more  unfortunate  a  child  is  the  more 
a  mother  loves  it  ?  That  is  why  it  will  kill  me — about 
Paul — if  there  is  no  help  for  him." 

"Yes,  mother,  but  there  will  be.  And  now  you 
must  go  to  sleep.  Do  you  remember  how  Mammy 
used  to  rub  your  head — like  this?" 

They  were  silent  a  long  time,  and  gradually  her 
mother's  form  relaxed  and  she  breathed  softly.  The 
girl's  wrist  ached,  but  she  went  on  until  she  was 
sure  her  mother  slept.  There  was  creeping  over  her 
a  strange  feeling  of  arrested  sensation,  such  as  comes 

114 


"  Light — and  Air — and  Sunshine  " 

to  one  who  has  wept  wildly  for  hours — as  if  she  lay 
an  atom  in  a  vast  space.  The  glimmer  of  the  window 
was  miles  away,  and  the  head  on  her  arm  as  light 
as  down.  There  was  a  stillness  upon  her  so  absolute 
that  it  was  endless — and  there  faded  away  with  her 
into  the  great  silence  the  whisper — "You  shall  give 
her — light — and  air — and  sunshine " 


BOOK  II. 


I. 

THE  TROUBLE-MAKING  PRESS 

"BRAUN!"  shouted  Ehrenstein.  "Oh,  my  eye, 
Braun,  look  here !  If  that  ain't  a  scunner  for  the  old 
man!"  The  heads  of  the  two  came  together  over  the 
Morning  Press,  and  Ehrenstein 's  finger  pointed  ex- 
citedly down  the  column.  It  was  a  simply-written 
statement  of  some  facts  stumbled  upon  by  an  enter- 
prising reporter,  which  facts  he  had  given  to  his  paper 
with  the  certainty  of  the  public's  interest  therein.  In 
a  place  the  size  of  this  their  flourishing  city,  it  was 
not  out  of  reason  to  suppose  that  some  interest  might 
be  felt  as  to  the  ownership  of  certain  properties  that 
frequently  figured  in  unsavory  mention.  Did  the 
public  in  general  ever  stop  to  inquire  who  owned  cer- 
tain houses,  places  of  resort,  even  whole  blocks,  that 
clean-living  citizens  avoided?  The  Press  was  pre- 
pared to  give  them  full  information.  The  Press  also 
was  assured  of  the  surprise,  as  well  as  the  regret — to 
put  it  mildly — that  the  respectable  element  would  feel 
at  the  prominence  of  certain  names  in  the  following 
list.  The  names  in  brackets,  appended  to  fictitious 
names  or  the  names  of  agents,  were  the  names  of  the 
actual  owners  of  said  properties ;  said  owners  deriving 
a  rate  of  interest  from  these  same  properties,  that 

119 


The  Winning  Chance 

might  explain  to  some  extent  the  reason  for  owner- 
ship. But  the  Press  did  not  desire  to  make  comments 
— it  was  simply  dealing  with  facts.  The  list  followed. 

"See  there,  and  there,  and  there,"  said  Ehren- 
stein.  ' '  That  last  is  a  whole  row  of  'em — you  know, 
Braun,  with  wine-rooms  below.  Why  in  ten  years 
that  property  will  run  into  a  cool  million  or  so,  the 
way  it  lies;  he  wouldn't  let  it  go,  of  course,  and  in 
the  mean  time  the  interest!  Say,  Braun,  this  lot's 
under  the  name  of  Scott,  and  that  other  Jones,  and 
down  here  is  Cahn — bet  they  don't  exist.  It's  every 
bit  of  it  old  Bronson's.  Varek'll  grin  when  he  sees 
it ;  he  don't  love  the  old  man.  What  a  joke ! " 

Braun  did  not  see  the  "joke"  side  of  it.  He 
looked  preternaturally  solemn.  "It'll  be  a  very  bad 
thing  for  him  socially,  very  bad, ' '  he  announced. 

Ehrenstein's  face  grew  mischievous,  for  he  knew 
Braun 's  weakness,  as  who  did  not  who  knew  Braun? 
But  if  he  had  thought  of  prodding  the  other  young 
man,  he  changed  his  mind  and  turned  his  attention 
to  Mr.  Calvin  Bronson. 

"A  church  member,"  said  Ehrenstein  in  glee,  "a 
deacon,  for  all  I  know,  and  his  name  on  every  char- 
ity— I  say  it's  a  good  joke  on  him,  Braun ; "  but  Braun 
looked  upon  it  as  a  catastrophe. 

If  Ehrenstein's  idol  was  the  dollar,  Braun 's  was 
society.  To  form  a  part  of  that  throng  that  frivoled 
and  glittered  in  what  is  known  as  "the  best  society;" 

120 


The  Trouble-Making  Press 

to  carry  himself  with  the  ease  of  the  youth  born  to  his 
place;  to  dance  attendance  on  the  belle  of  the  season, 
even  to  flirt  outrageously  with  the  safely  married, — 
these  had  been  dream  longings  to  Braun  for  many  a 
day.  There  was  the  making  in  him  of  the  most  thor- 
oughgoing snob,  but  fate  had  denied  him  his  chance. 
His  parents  were  common,  his  beginnings  mean,  and 
though  he  worked  doggedly,  with  a  capacity  for 
figures  and  office  management  really  remarkable,  his 
soul  languished  within  him. 

Varek  had  noted  Braun 's  aspirations  with  a  good 
deal  of  contemptuous  amusement,  and  he  finally 
took  pity  on  him.  The  young  fellow  served  him 
faithfully,  and  if  his  crumb  was  a  loaf  to  the  dog, 
why,  let  him  have  it.  He  introduced  him  to  his  home, 
and  turned  him  over  to  Mrs.  Varek.  Then  a  bit  of 
heaven  opened  to  Braun.  He  was  bidden  to  occa- 
sional tea-drinkings,  now  and  then  to  a  dinner  to  fill 
some  delinquent's  place,  and  finally  to  dances.  Others 
beside  Mrs.  Yarek  then  discovered  the  convenience  of 
a  young  man  who  was  always  ready  to  be  an  accommo- 
dation; besides,  Braun 's  income  was  good  enough  to 
make  him  an  eligible.  Braun  was  entering  upon  his 
own. 

At  first  his  hands  and  feet,  his  inability  to  take 
part  in  the  elusive,  though  none  too  intelligent,  con- 
versation about  him,  and  his  consciousness  of  inferior- 
ity to  the  general  smartness,  caused  him  agonies.  But 

121 


The  Winning  Chance 

ambition  backed  by  perseverance  will  conquer,  and 
Braun  was  beginning  to  conquer.  He  could  now  send 
flowers  to  Mrs.  Varek  with  almost  a  blase  air.  His 
blond,  regular-featured  face  began  to  assume  the 
indifferent  expression  demanded  of  the  young  eligible. 
Braun  was  happy. 

That  any  one  should  so  offend  respectability  and 
draw  upon  himself  the  frown  of  society,  was  a  serious 
thing  to  Braun.  Would  the  Misses  Bronson  suffer  in 
consequence?  He  would  seek  enlightenment  of  his 
chief. 

Varek  had  come  in  with  the  signs  of  merriment 
upon  him.  He  had  picked  up  and  brought  downtown 
with  him  in  his  car  an  eminently  respectable  citizen, 
and  as  Varek  leaned  back  at  his  ease,  he  had  been 
greatly  entertained  by  the  remarks  of  Mr.  Jules- 
Clarke.  He  was  not  one  of  Varek 's  group  of  finan- 
ciers; he  belonged  rather  to  the  coterie  of  reformers 
who  had  looked  with  much  favor  upon  Mr.  Bronson, 
a  favor  Mr.  Bronson  had  gone  out  of  his  way  to  culti- 
vate. These  gentlemen  had  dipped  joyfully  into 
Bronson 's  purse  for  their  many  charities,  and  he  had 
not  given  with  a  niggardly  hand.  Mrs.  Bronson 's 
ample  front  was  often  seen  in  conjunction  with  the 
still  more  ample  proportions  of  Mrs.  Jules-Clarke, 
when  the  committees  on  "Combined  Charities"  met. 
Mrs.  Jules-Clarke  was  a  veteran  in  the  art  of  raising 
subscriptions,  as  many  besides  Varek  knew. 

122 


The  Trouble-Making  Press 

"It's  very  awkward,"  Mr.  Jules-Clarke  com- 
plained, ruefully.  "My  wife  is  terribly  upset.  She 
spent  most  of  the  night  talking  about  it.  You  see  she 
is  vice-president  of  the  Elton  Society,  the  chief  object 
of  which  is  the  rescue  of  women  and  girls,  and  Mr. 
Bronson's  donation,  much  the  largest  given,  is  just 
in." 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  exclaimed  Varek,  losing 
control  of  his  risibilities  at  last,  and  throwing  back 
his  head  he  indulged  in  a  shout  of  laughter  that 
startled  his  chauffeur  and  turned  the  heads  of  the 
passers-by.  The  picture  of  Mrs.  Jules-Clarke  attired 
for  the  night  and  swelling  with  indignant  perturbation 
on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  the  smiling  Bron- 
son,  receiving  and  dispensing  with  equal  serenity, 
had  been  too  much  for  him. 

When  he  had  regained  his  gravity,  he  felt  apolo- 
getic, for  to  Mr.  Jules-Clarke  it  seemed  no  laughing 
matter.  "Nor  would  it  be  to  me,  if  I  had  listened 
most  of  the  night  in  conjugal  seclusion  to  Mrs.  Jules- 
Clarke,"  thought  Varek.  So  he  put  forth  his  powers 
to  please,  and  dropped  his  guest  on  Broadway  in  a 
much  happier  frame  of  mind  than  when  he  had  picked 
him  up. 

Braun  questioned  Varek  on  the  first  opportunity. 
"What  are  people  going  to  say  about  it?"  he  asked. 

"Well,"  said  Varek,  "I  guess  they  will  say  a  lot 
for  a  day  or  two." 

123 


The  Winning  Chance 

"But  what  will  they  do — won't  they  make  him 
feel  it,  won't  it  make  a  difference?"  insisted  Braun. 

"Look  here,  Braun,"  said  Varek,  with  a  glance 
half  sharp,  half  amused,  "society  is  an  animal  with  a 
mighty  tough  hide.  You  go  ahead  and  take  Miss 
Bronson  to  that  dance;  it's  a  week  off  and  almost 
anything  can  be  forgotten  in  a  week." 

If  society  forgot,  or  pretended  to  forget  in  a  week, 
there  were  a  few  that  did  not,  and  among  these  was 
Mr.  Calvin  Bronson.  He  had  his  own  methods  of 
ferreting  out  hidden  things,  and  his  discoveries  filled 
him  with  rage.  He  found  whose  instigation  and 
money  had  carried  through  the  little  investigation  that 
had  so  sorely  mortified  him.  He  had  passed  some 
bad  hours  in  the  privacy  of  his  home,  and  every  re- 
served greeting  he  met  with  in  public  made  him 
smart  afresh.  "With  all  his  soul  he  longed  to  strike 
back,  but  he  was  afraid,  dreadfully  afraid. 

The  hatred  that  Bronson  felt  for  the  man  who 
had  secretly  stabbed  him  was  not  of  any  recent 
growth.  It  dated  back  to  their  New  York  days  when 
Varek  had  formed  a  part  of  Bronson 's  equipment. 
The  young  fellow  was  unusually  clever,  and  had 
learned  a  little  too  much  of  Bronson 's  bucket-shop 
methods,  for  Bronson  &  Co.  of  New  York  was  an 
entirely  different  proposition  from  Bronson  &  Co.  of 

St.  Louis;  just  as  the  Bronson  that  Varek  first  knew 

124 


The  Trouble-Making  Press 

was  several  degrees  in  advance  of  the  attorney-at- 
law  that  Bronson  hoped  no  one  remembered. 

Varek  had  become  a  menace  to  his  chief,  and 
Bronson  had  taken  his  own  means  of  getting  rid  of 
him.  Varek  was  learning  fast,  but  he  was  not  as  yet 
a  match  for  the  older  man,  and  Bronson  had  swamped 
every  cent  of  the  young  fellow's  hard-earned  savings. 
While  he  was  accomplishing  this  in  New  York,  Varek 
was  sent  on  a  wild-goose  chase  among  California 
mining  camps  and  there  Bronson  lost  him  by  the  sim- 
ple method  of  stopping  remittances. 

There  had  followed  for  Varek  the  five  hardest 
years  of  his  life.  He  had  been  lumberman,  cowboy, 
miner;  he  had  wandered  all  over  the  great  West  and 
up  into  Alaska;  he  had  never  lost  his  love  for  the 
ticker,  but  he  had  no  mind  to  go  back  to  it  with  empty 
pockets.  He  had  not  tried  to  return  to  New  York, 
for  what  could  he,  penniless,  do  against  Bronson  ?  He 
wanted  to  make  his  strike  first,  and  he  did  finally, 
when  he  had  almost  given  up  expecting  it.  He  had 
learned  mines  and  mining  thoroughly,  but  it  was  a 
different  life  that  drew  him.  The  boy  who  had 
grown  up  on  the  streets  had  never  ceased  to  long  for 
them. 

He  had  started  east  and  come  as  far  as  St.  Louis. 
There  he  stopped  for  a  time,  for  the  place  interested 
him.  It  had  its  possibilities,  but  during  those  five 
years  there  had  always  been  in  the  back  of  his  mind  a 

125 


The  Winning  Chance 

desire  to  sit  down  opposite  Bronson  and  flourish — to 
succeed,  and  smile  indifferently  at  the  older  man, 
and  to  beat  him  at  his  game  if  he  could.  He  was  still 
mooting  the  question  when  he  stumbled  upon  Bronson 
&  Co.  It  only  needed  a  superficial  glance  to  assure 
him  that  his  old  chief  was  successful  and  that  Bron- 
son &  Co.  was  highly  respectable.  Varek  made  his 
decision  on  the  spot. 

The  reappearance  of  the  youth  he  had  so  easily 
lost,  in  the  bronzed,  powerful-looking  man  who  had 
money  to  back  him,  and  brains  and  nerve  to  use  it  to 
the  best  advantage,  was  one  of  the  greatest  surprises  of 
Bronson 's  eventful  life.  He  had  the  sense  to  attempt 
no  explanations;  but  after  taking  stock  of  the  young 
man  he  had  offered  his  assistance  as  one  knowing 
the  ground.  Varek  had  thanked  him  and  gone  on 
his  way,  and  the  manner  of  it  had  made  Bronson  un- 
easy. Still,  if  Varek  had  ever  tattled,  Bronson  in  his 
most  careful  efforts  had  failed  to  discover  it.  Varek 
neither  sought  nor  avoided  him,  and  Bronson 's  hatred 
as  it  grew  began  to  be  touched  by  fear.  There  is  a 
nature  that  always  hates  those  it  has  wronged  and  also 
those  to  whom  it  is  indebted,  and  Bronson 's  was  one 
of  these.  That  they  should  be  drawn  into  some  enter- 
prises together  was  unavoidable,  and  he  had  purposely 
let  Varek  in  on  a  well-paying  thing  or  two,  but  the 
younger  man  had  accepted  or  declined  with  equal 
indifference.  Bronson  never  took  his  watchful  eye 

126 


The  Trouble-Making  Press 

from  him,  but  Varek  was  neither  to  be  bribed  nor 
caught  napping. 

The  younger  man  was  steadily  successful.  He  had 
made  one  of  the  best  marriages  in  the  city  from  a 
social  standpoint,  and  he  had  come  forward  among 
financial  leaders.  It  looked  as  if  he  were  going  to  be 
not  just  a  successfiil  man,  but  an  influential  one  as 
well.  A  conservative  but  very  wealthy  city  was 
waking  up  to  a  realization  of  its  immense  possibilities. 
New  elements  and  new  men  were  coming  to  the  front. 
For  men  with  a  genius  for  finance  like  Varek,  the  days 
were  not  long  enough  in  which  to  gather  in  the  har- 
vest and  sow  for  the  future.  Brains  of  Varek 's  type 
rarely  go  begging,  and  he  was  taking  no  second  rate 
place  in  the  councils  of  the  inner  circle.  He  had 
meant  to  be  "in  the  things  that  were  doing,"  and 
he  was,  and  it  had  no  small  share  in  the  older  man's 
consuming  rage. 

Bronson  studied  his  enemy  carefully  from  all 
sides,  but  seek  as  he  might,  he  could  find  no  really 
vulnerable  point  in  his  armor.  In  business  he  had  as 
clean  a  record  as  most.  If  he  had  pushed  weaker  men 
to  the  wall,  and  taken  advantage  of  every  opportunity, 
there  were  others  doing  the  same;  it  had  merely 
gained  him  the  name  of  a  hard  man.  He  knew 
Varek 's  reputation  in  certain  directions  and  thought 
him  more  of  a  sensualist  than  he  was,  but  he  could 
lay  his  hand  on  nothing  practical  for  his  purpose. 

127 


The  Winning  Chance 

There  were  things  he  had  learned  since  his  return  in 
the  early  spring,  that  he  might  use  he  thought,  to  stir 
up  domestic  difficulties,  but  warned  by  a  certain  recol- 
lection he  preferred  not  to  touch  it.  "You  would 
better  make  terms  with  him  even  at  a  loss  to  yourself, ' ' 
advised  caution.  "You  cannot  afford  any  more  ex- 
poses"— and  caution  prevailed. 


II. 

AN  ULTIMATUM 

HAVING  once  made  up  his  mind  Bronson  lost  no 
time.  Ehrenstein  brought  to  Varek  the  request  for 
an  interview,  and  was  somewhat  mystified  by  Varek 's, 
"Already!  very  well,  don't  let  us  be  interrupted." 

Bronson  came  in  with  all  of  his  usual  florid  com- 
placency, and  his  greeting  was  cordial.  "It's  de- 
lightful— this  cool  room  after  the  street,"  he  said, 
appreciatively,  taking  the  chair  Varek  offered  him. 
"The  first  of  April  only,  and  it's  like  June  out  there." 

"We're  jumping  into  summer  as  we  jumped  into 
winter,"  returned  Varek,  offering  his  caller  a  cigar. 
"You  were  lucky  enough  to  escape  that  part  of  it." 
Varek 's  manner  was  as  usual,  and  as  usual  he  did  not 
shake  hands  with  his  visitor.  Bronson  could  not 
remember  his  having  done  so  in  years. 

They  talked  the  money  market  for  a  time.  "Con- 
solidated Electric 's  going  up,"  remarked  Bronson. 
' '  I  wish  you  were  on  the  board  with  us,  Varek.  That 
and  Whery  are  the  two  best  things  going." 

"Yes,"  said  Varek,  "I  suppose  they  are." 

Bronson  smoked  in  silence  for  a  time,  and  then  he 
drew  himself  up  with  an  air  of  decision.  "I  have 
come  here  to  ask  you  a  question,  Varek,"  said  he,  "and 
9  129 


The  Winning  Chance 

you  are  too  busy  a  man,  and  so  am  I,  to  waste  time. 
Will  you  tell  me  why  you  set  the  papers  on  me?" 
Bronson 's  whole  bearing  was  one  of  dignified  though 
grieved  questioning. 

"Doubtless  you  made  a  guess  or  two  as  to  my 
reasons,"  Varek  returned,  quietly. 

"I  thought  possibly  it  was  a  grudge  you  bore  me 
for  my  unfortunate  investment  of  your  money  years 
ago ;  I  could  think  of  no  other  reason,  there  could  be 
no  other,"  said  Bronson,  candidly.  "I  have  always 
regretted  that  whole  business,  and  though  I  made 
mistakes,  I  think  you  misjudged  me.  After  I  wrote 
you  about  your  loss  I  never  had  a  word  from  you, 
and  no  answer  to  my  following  letter  in  which  I  sent 
you  money.  I  should  have  liked  to  clear  this  thing 
up  long  ago,  but  your  manner  repulsed  me."  Mr. 
Bronson  paused,  but  Varek 's  face  was  expressionless 
as  he  studied  the  tip  of  his  cigar,  and  the  older  man 
went  on,  his  voice  swelling  in  fuller  cadence.  "If 
you  think  I  wronged  you,  you  have  had  your  revenge. 
Can't  we  drop  all  that?  There  are  ways  in  which 
I  can  be  useful  to  you;  I  have  every  wish  to  be  on 
friendly  terms." 

"That's  not  possible,"  said  Varek. 

"Why?"  asked  Bronson.    "I  can  see  no  reason." 

Varek  had  been  leaning  back,  his  face  turned 
slightly  away,  but  now  he  sat  upright  and  putting 
down  his  cigar  he  looked  squarely  at  the  older  man. 

130 


An  Ultimatum 

"We  will  let  that  subject  rest,"  said  he,  "and 
I  '11  answer  your  first  question.  I  helped  the  Press  to 
a  few  facts  because  I  wanted  you  to  come  to  me  in 
just  the  frame  of  mind  in  which  you  have  come.  You 
haven't  forgotten  little  Cravette's  gibe  at  you  about 
your  real  estate  and  mint- juleps?  It  was  your  face 
gave  you  away  and  set  me  to  thinking.  I  wanted  to 
get  some  information  from  you  that  day  and  I  got 
more  than  I  looked  for,  that  was  all.  You  are  mis- 
taken in  your  supposition  that  I  have  borne  you  a 
grudge  for  your  way  of  getting  rid  of  me,  but  it  has 
had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  my  estimate  of  you,  which 
justifies  me  in  saying  that  you  lied  a  few  minutes  ago 
when  you  prattled  about  having  written  and  sent  me 
money.  You  did  nothing  of  the  kind — but  there  is 
no  need  for  you  to  get  excited,"  for  Bronson  had  half 
risen.  "We  will  say  that  you  had  a  lapse  of  memory 
— it  was  so  long  ago.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  you  are 
wrong  about  the  grudge.  I  have  thanked  you  almost 
every  day  for  that  hard  five  years  you  gave  me. 
It  made  me.  I  was  in  a  fair  way  to  become  just  a 
clever  trickster,  and  the  experience,  and  the  wider 
view  they  gave  me,  were  my  salvation.  We  will  drop 
that  too;  it's  something  else  I  want  to  talk  about. 
Will  you  have  a  cigar? — No!  Well,  it's  about  the 
affairs  of  a  man  who  died  a  little  over  a  year  ago. 
You  remember  Mr.  Denis  Carew?"  The  look  of  com- 
plete surprise  on  Bronson 's  red  face  gave  way  in  turn 

131 


The  Winning  Chance 

to  a  wavering  glance,  and  the  characteristic  smile 
appeared  on  Varek's  lips. 

"I  have  had  reason  to  look  into  some  transactions 
prior  to  Mr.  Carew's  death,"  continued  Varek,  "and 
I  have  found  that  you  are  pretty  well  mixed  up  in 
them.  Mr.  Carew  seems  to  have  had  a  faculty  for 
getting  himself  into  financial  difficulties.  During  the 
last  two  years  of  his  life  you  appear  to  have  been 
his  constant  adviser,  even  finding  it  worth  your  while 
to  spend  a  good  deal  of  your  time  away  from  here 
and  in  his  society.  His  means  seem  to  have  been 
considerable  to  begin  with,  and  he  was  a  shareholder 
in  several  companies.  In  an  incredibly  sh^rt  time 
these  shares  were  yours.  You  took  his  home  next  and 
everything  else  he  had,  except  a  piece  of  land  in 
Arizona.  Mr.  Carew  was  pretty  far  gone  by  that 
time,  for  he  was  drinking  and  gambling  hard,  and 
there  were  intervals  when  he  was  not  sane,  but  he 
clung  to  that  land.  He  had  received  an  impression 
of  its  value  that  persisted  in  his  mind  in  spite  of 
his  irresponsible  condition." 

Bronson  had  moved  impatiently  at  this  point.  His 
face  had  paled  and  set,  and  he  spoke  with  somewhat 
of  Varek's  own  incisiveness.  The  smooth  compla- 
cency was  wiped  out  of  face  and  manner.  "What 
rot  are  you  giving  me?"  he  said.  "Why,  Carew  was 
drink-crazy  and  I  kept  him  going,  he  and  his  family, 
for  goodness  knows  how  long.  I  loaned  him  money, 

132 


An  Ultimatum 

and  the  way  he  was  going  I  saw  I  had  to  have  security, 
that  was  all.  I  don't  doubt  he  talked  wildly  about 
it — the  crazy  fool!  If  you  think  you  are  going  to 
come  it  over  me  because  you  have  raked  up  some  of 
Carew's  talk,  you  are  much  mistaken." 

He  fairly  snarled  at  the  last,  but  Varek  laughed 
in  his  face.  "All  right,"  he  said.  "I  thought  you 
wanted  my  reason  for  setting  the  papers  on  you,  and 
I  was  giving  it  to  you,  that's  all.  You  can  go  if  you 
don't  want  to  hear  it — it's  immaterial  to  me — only — " 
and  his  voice  dropped  to  a  lower  note  while  his  lip 
lifted  over  his  teeth — "I  should  advise  you  to  sit 
where  you  are." 

The  two  eyed  each  other  in  silence,  then  Bronson 
said,  contemptuously,  "Oh,  go  ahead,  of  course!  If 
a  man's  after  blackmail  it's  as  well  to  know  what  he's 
going  on." 

"Thanks,"  said  Varek,  evenly.  "You  show  your 
good  sense  in  desiring  to  know  where  you  stand,  and 
I  shall  try  not  to  waste  words.  I  was  talking  about 
Carew's  piece  of  land,  wasn't  I?  Well,  he  was  right 
about  its  value,  only  he  didn't  begin  to  know  how 
good  a  thing  it  was.  I  knew  what  it  was  worth, — it 
was  one  of  the  things  I  learned  in  those  years  you  were 
responsible  for, — and  one  of  the  first  things  I  did  after 
I  was  established  enough  to  spare  the  money  was 
to  try  to  get  it.  Carew  already  had  it,  and  I  said 
to  myself,  'There's  a  lucky  dog.'  I  wasn't  up  to  pay- 

133 


The  Winning  Chance 

ing  high  for  it  so  I  let  it  go.  Just  about  a  year  ago 
I  looked  the  thing  up  again,  and  found  that  you  had 
it.  I  should  probably  never  have  thought  of  the  name 
Carew  again,  if  you  had  not  recalled  it  yourself  last 
autumn,  and  given  me  all  those  melancholy  details  that 
afternoon  at  the  club.  I  wasn't  long  putting  two  and 
two  together — but  to  go  on  with  Carew ;  he  had  about 
reached  the  end.  He  hadn't  a  friend  but  yourself 
and  an  old  man  who  lived  in  the  same  house,  and  was 
about  as  down  in  the  heel  as  himself.  He  had  dropped 
out  of  respectable  things,  and  he  was  crazy  with 
anxiety  over  his  family.  Then  you  applied  the  thumb- 
screws. You  held  up  to  him  the  helpless  state  of  his 
family:  you  had  more  than  one  interview,  but  there 
came  the  night  when  you  got  your  way.  The 
conversation  between  you  and  Carew  makes  interest- 
ing telling.  His  arraignment  of  you  was  vivid  and 
convincing — but  you  got  your  way.  You  got  Carew 's 
piece  of  land,  and  for  it  you  bound  yourself  to  do 
certain  things.  Carew  made  you  put  them  down  in 
the  form  of  an  agreement,  and  in  plainly  legal  terms, 
for  his  mind  was  clear  for  the  time,  and  he  would  sign 
nothing  until  that  paper  was  signed  and  witnessed. 
It  was  witnessed  by  the  old  man  and  the  woman  in 
whose  house  they  lived — you  remember  the  terms  of 
that  agreement,  Mr.  Bronson?"  The  usually  florid 
face  of  the  man  before  him  wore  a  mottled  look,  and 
he  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  the  rug  at  his  feet,  but 

134 


An  Ultimatum 

he  articulated  clearly  enough:  "I  remember  no  such 
circumstances.  Please  proceed."  He  had  gone  back 
to  his  usual  manner  and  Varek  looked  him  over  coldly. 

"Just  another  lapse  of  your  memory,"  he  said. 
''I  shall  have  to  jog  it  a  little,  and  state  the  terms 
myself.  You  agreed  to  pay  Mrs.  Carew,  or  in  case  of 
her  death,  her  heirs,  a  certain  amount  monthly  until 
you  had  paid  in  full  a  sum  named  in  the  agreement, 
the  monthly  payments  to  begin  one  month  from  the 
day  the  agreement  was  signed,  and  that  the  failure 
to  meet  in  any  particular  the  terms  of  said  agreement 
invalidated  the  whole  transaction.  I  am  not  giving 
legal  detail,  you  know  that  paper  even  better  than  I. 
There  were  two  copies,  you  had  one,  Carew  the  other. 

"You  kept  Carew  conscious  long  enough  to  get 
your  deed,  and  then  he  collapsed  utterly.  You  hast- 
ened to  take  charge  of  his  effects,  but  to  your  surprise 
you  did  not  find  the  paper.  Your  search  was  a  thor- 
ough one,  you  even  searched  Carew,  but  all  you  found 
was  a  fragment  among  the  burnt  papers  in  the  grate. 
You  had  given  Carew  only  a  short  time  alone,  but  it 
was  clear  that  he  had  used  it  to  destroy  papers  and 
that  particular  paper  among  them.  He  was  capable 
of  it  in  his  muddled  state.  You  were  pretty  easy  in 
your  mind,  and  you  promptly  shipped  Carew  home — 
you  were  done  with  him.  You  'were  certain  of  that 
fragment,  it  was  in  your  own  hand,  and  you  had  no 
reason  to  fear  those  two  witnesses.  They  were  two 

135 


The  Winning  Chance 

poor  creatures  who  would  soon  be  swallowed  up  in  the 
slums.  Then  having  concluded  that  if  Mrs.  Carew 
knew  anything  of  her  husband's  affairs  you  would 
like  early  notice  of  it,  you  wrote  her  your  condo- 
lences. The  letter  you  received  from  her  daughter 
convinced  you  of  their  ignorance  of  any  claim,  aside 
from  friendship,  that  they  might  have  on  you.  Their 
sudden  appearance  here  must  have  given  you  a  slight 
shock,  but  you  bore  it  well  as  soon  as  you  knew  its 
cause,  and  the  position  you  proceeded  to  occupy  to- 
ward them  suited  you  exactly.  You  have  patted  your- 
self on  the  back  these  many  months,  but  now  you'll 
pay  the  reckoning." 

The  two  ugly  passion-marked  faces  stared  steadily 
at  each  other.  The  man  who  had  waited  quietly  for 
years  for  his  revenge  showed  in  Yarek's  lifted  lip 
and  steely  eye,  and  the  rage  that  shook  the  whole  of 
Bronson's  fat  body  was  only  equaled  by  the  concen- 
trated malignity  of  his  look.  He  seemed  to  flatten 
and  distend  like  a  reptile,  and  no  volition  of  his  could 
hold  back  the  words  that  rose  up  into  his  mouth. 

"It's  a conspiracy  to  rob  me,  you  low-lived 

beast — a  conspiracy  hatched  by  you  and  that  girl, 
that of  yours." 

Yarek  was  on  him  at  a  leap.  His  iron  grip  settled 
on  the  older  man 's  throat,  and  he  lifted  him  and  shook 
him  like  a  rag.  Bronson  struggled  and  struck  out 
with  all  his  strength,  but  he  was  a  child  in  the  other's 

136 


An  Ultimatum 

hold.  The  blood  filled  his  bulging  eyes,  and  his 
swelling  tongue  lolled  out,  and  still  Varek  gripped 
him,  and  it  was  only  when  he  dragged  limp  that  the 
other  loosened  his  hold  and  flung  him  into  his  chair. 
A  long  time  Varek  stood  over  him,  breathing  hard,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  his  legs  apart.  He  watched  the 
purple  congested  face  regain  a  more  normal  color, 
and  the  gasping  breath  become  more  regular.  Then 
he  went  into  the  next  room  and  brought  out  some 
whiskey  and  water.  He  seated  himself  at  his  desk 
and  turned  his  back,  giving  the  man  time  to  recover 
himself,  and  when  he  spoke  again  it  was  very  quietly. 

' '  I  nearly  did  for  you, ' '  he  said,  ' '  and  I  will  again 
unless  you  guard  your  tongue.  I  haven 't  much  more 
to  say,  but  you  will  hear  me  out.  Last  fall  you  sent 
me,  you  turned  over  to  my  tender  mercies,  a  child, 
for  that's  what  she  was  in  experience,  and  you  sent 
her  labelled  with  an  insinuation.  Did  you  think  I 
was  so  poor  a  judge  of  character?  Did  you  suppose 
I  could  look  at  your  note  and  then  at  her  face  and 
doubt  ?  I  coupled  her  name  with  my  recollection  and 
I  began  to  understand,  but  to  make  sure  I  let  you 
talk.  You  made  good  the  remark  in  your  note,  and 
went  on  to  clear  my  path  for  me.  It  must  have  been  a 
sudden  fit  of  anger  that  blinded  you  into  thinking  that 
you  could  use  me  for  a  tool  and  not  get  cut  yourself, 
and,  Lord,  but  you  must  have  hated  that  child! 

"I  thought  a  little  and  I  concluded  that  this  was 
137 


The  Winning  Chance 

just  another  you  wanted  to  lose  as  you  had  tried  to 
lose  me.  You  wanted  her  ruined,  discredited.  The 
mother  and  the  boy  you  didn't  fear,  but  the  girl 
might  be  troublesome.  Well  as  I  knew  you,  I  couldn  't 
believe  it  at  first;  it  was  so  diabolical,  so  like  a 
woman 's  way.  I  am  not  a  stickler,  but  I  confess  that 
would  be  beyond  me.  You  haven't  a  good  opinion  of 
me,  and  doubtless  I  deserve  it,  but  it's  not  always 
safe  to  judge  another  man  by  yourself,  or  circum- 
stances by  appearances; — and  now  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  something,  and  you  keep  it  by  you  as  long 
as  you  live — I  honor  and  respect  that  girl  you  tried 
to  harm,  beyond  any  one  or  anything  I  've  ever  known, 
my  mother  included.  That  subject  is  ended  between 
us,  and  look  to  yourself,  if  you  revive  it.  From  this 
time  on  you  know  no  such  person.  She  will  cease  to 
exist  even  in  your  recollection.  You  hear  me,  Calvin 
Bronson?" 

"Yes,"  articulated  the  other  through  blue  lips. 

' '  Very  well, ' '  said  Varek.  ' '  Now  we  come  to  busi- 
ness. I've  gone  a  long  way  back  in  your  life  and 
I've  unearthed  a  lot.  I  have  under  my  hand  here,  in 
this  place,  a  man  whom  you  used  to  know  by  the 
name  of  Stevens;  he  calls  himself  Doane  now.  He  is 
a  crook  and  a  gambler,  but  he  can  give  cold  facts 
about  your  law  practice  that  you  can't  face.  He 
knows  about  your  first  marriage,  and  why  that  girl 
left  you  in  a  few  weeks."  Bronson  had  stirred,  and 

Varek  paused. 

133 


An  Ultimatum 

"I  see  you  know  him,"  he  said.  "Well,  I  myself 
can  vouch  for  a  few  unsavory  things  that  you  have 
always  been  afraid  I  would  talk  about.  I  also  ran 
across  the  old  man  who  was  one  of  Carew 's  witnesses, 
and  the  woman  can  be  reached.  She  overheard  more 
than  one  conversation  between  you  and  Carew,  and 
it  was  she  who  saved  this  paper  from  the  fire. ' '  Varek 
took  from  his  breast  pocket  a  paper  that  was  yellowed 
and  blackened  at  the  edges,  and  held  it  up  before 
Bronson's  blood-shot  eyes.  "There's  a  part  of  one 
page  gone,  but  the  signatures  are  intact,  and  she  can 
swear  to  it.  It's  your  agreement — you  recognize  it?" 
He  watched  the  ghastly  face  before  him  a  moment. 
"Do  you  want  more  time  to  think  it  over,  or  are 
you  ready  to  hear  my  terms  now  ? "  he  asked. 

Bronson  seemed  to  find  difficulty  in  speaking,  but 
he  brought  out  his  "Go  on,"  at  last,  and  he  even 
drew  himself  together  a  little. 

"Well,  here  it  is,"  said  Varek.  "You  will  bring 
me  every  paper  in  your  possession  relating  to  this 
transaction  with  Carew,  and  these  papers  we  will  place 
in  an  envelope  and  seal.  With  them  you  will  put  a 
statement  written  by  yourself  to  the  effect  that,  having 
been  unable  to  meet  the  terms  of  the  agreement,  you 
turn  over  to  Mrs.  Carew  or  her  heirs  their  rightful 
property.  You  will  also  bring  with  you  the  packet  of 
letters  that  you  once  filched  from  Carew 's  belong- 
ings— they  were  six  in  number — and  you  will  destroy 

139 


The  Winning  Chance 

them  in  my  presence.  Then  we  will  go  to  some 
reputable  lawyer,  it  doesn't  matter  to  me  who 
it  is,  provided  he  is  sound,  and  we  will  place  this 
envelope  in  his  keeping  until  such  time  as  it  is  called 
for  by  Mrs.  Carew,  or  one  or  both  of  her  children. 
Neither  you  nor  I  can  touch  it.  So  much  for  that. 
Next,  you  shall  resign  from  the  Presidency  of  the 
Whery  Company,  and  from  its  board  altogether,  and 
you  will  turn  over  to  me  shares  in  that  Company  cov- 
ering the  amount  you  took  from  me  in  New  York. 
And  thirdly,  you  will  from  this  day  on,  cease  in  any 
way  to  interest  yourself  in  my  affairs,  private  or  pub- 
lic, or  the  affairs  private  or  public  of  any  member  of 
the  Carew  family.  As  you  keep  this  agreement,  so 
will  I  keep  mine,  not  to  molest  or  disturb  you  in  any 
particular."  Varek  stopped  and  looked  at  the  bent 
head  before  him,  and  it  struck  him  suddenly  that  the 
man  looked  shrunken,  and  that  the  skin  of  his  hands 
had  the  glazed,  wrinkled  look  one  sees  in  the  hands 
of  the  old.  A  curious  sensation  as  of  a  oneness 
of  shame  with  the  flabby,  crouching  figure  in  its 
chair,  passed  over  him.  But  it  went  as  it  came, 
Business  was  business  with  Varek,  and  the  sight  of  a 
wrinkled  hand  with  twitching  fingers  could  not  deter 
him.  He  was  well  aware  that  were  he  sitting  in 
Bronson's  place,  Bronson  would  dictate  no  such  easy 
terms  to  him. 

"If   this   thing   should   come   to   a   settlement," 
140 


An  Ultimatum 

Varek  continued,  "yon  haven't  a  shadow  of  a  leg 
to  stand  on.  I  could  run  you  out  of  town,  to  say  the 
least  of  it.  Take  your  time  to  decide,  I'm  in  no 
hurry,"  and  he  turned  to  his  desk. 

Bronson  was  silent  a  long  time,  but  not  because  of 
any  doubt  of  his  compliance ;  on  the  contrary  he  felt 
he  had  come  off  better  than  he  expected.  The  land  he 
could  spare  though  it  meant  wealth  in  the  near  future ; 
the  renunciation  of  his  influence  and  direction  in  the 
Whery  Co.  hit  him  hard,  but  it  was  none  of  these 
things  that  possessed  him.  He  was  sick  and  shaken 
by  abject  physical  terror,  and  neither  shame  nor 
anger  had  any  part  in  it.  He  would  have  days  and 
nights  in  which  to  think  of  his  position,  but  just  now 
he  had  place  for  only  one  idea.  He  had  done  many 
things  in  his  life  to  which  he  would  decline  to  give  a 
name,  and  he  had  glided  more  than  once  from  under 
the  hand  of  the  law,  but  he  had  never  had  violence 
done  him.  The  shivering,  physical  coward  in  him 
crouched  paralyzed.  If  he  could  gather  together 
strength  enough  to  stand  and  if  possible  walk  put 
under  the  terrible  eyes  of  that  man  whose  finger- 
marks burned  on  his  neck,  it  was  what  he  wanted 
most.  If  he  could  go  where  he  was  safe  and  collect 
himself,  he  might  get  together  courage  enough  to  enter 
his  presence  again. 

At  length  he  dragged  himself  up,  but  he  stag- 
gered at  Varek 's  sudden  turn  towards  him,  and  lifted 

141 


The  Winning  Chance 

his  hand  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow.  "I  agree  to  every- 
thing," he  said,  his  shrinking  eye  on  the  younger  man. 
"I  will  come  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"All  right,"  answered  Varek.  "No,  go  out  this 
way.  You  don't  need  to  go  through  the  office,"  and 
he  opened  the  door  of  his  private  entrance  for  him, 
and  as  the  big  figure  shambled  out,  Varek  had  a  cor- 
rect guess  of  what  Bronson's  furtive  glance  backward 
meant. 


III. 

THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  BLUFF 

VABEK  hailed  a  south-bound  car,  and  took  his 
seat  with  a  half-suppressed  sigh  of  satisfaction.  It 
was  Saturday  evening,  the  end  of  a  particularly  busy 
week,  and  he  longed  to  get  home.  He  had  not  had 
a  sight  of  it  for  two  days,  and  the  car  seemed  to  him 
to  crawl. 

That  morning  he  had  concluded  his  affair  with 
Bronson,  and  he  was  done  with  him,  he  hoped,  for- 
ever. The  night  before  he  had  been  kept  very  late 
at  a  business  dinner  at  the  club,  and  the  day  had 
been  a  rush  from  one  thing  to  another.  He  felt  a 
weariness  of  tobacco  smoke,  and  business,  and  men. 
It  was  a  feeling  that  had  grown  on  him  during  the 
last  two  months.  It  did  not  bother  him  much  in  the 
busy  day,  his  head  had  never  been  so  clear,  or  his  con- 
fidence in  himself  more  assured,  and  he  could  put 
through  an  immense  amount  of  work ;  but  when  even- 
ing came  it  was  not  just  to  look  forward  to  the  mor- 
row; the  morrow  might  remove  itself  an  infinite  dis- 
tance away  for  all  he  cared.  He  longed  for  his  bit  of 
heaven — the  snowy  supper-table  with  its  centre  of 
ever  fresh  flowers;  the  softly  lighted  room  above, 
every  object  in  which  was  restful;  the  wide  win- 

143 


The  Winning  Chance 

dow  and  balcony  from  which  he  could  see  the  lights 
of  the  river-boats  always  moving  up  and  down,  on 
foggy  nights  their  melancholy  sirens  piercing  the  still- 
ness and  making  the  blazing  fire  a  double  delight. 
To-night  it  would  be  moonlight  and  he  would  take 
her  out  there.  A  warm  surge  of  tenderness  swept 
over  him.  He  had  never  dreamed  that  life  held 
anything  like  this,  and  it  was  actually  his. 

He  was  astounded  at  his  former  ignorance  of  him- 
self. The  little,  white,  stricken-looking  girl  that  he 
had  forced  into  his  arms  and  held  so  tightly,  who 
obeyed  him,  but  with  no  hint  of  servility,  who  took  her 
life  so  quietly  and  smiled  at  him  out  of  the  unfathom- 
able blue  of  her  eyes, — did  she  know  that  she  held  him 
in  the  hollow  of  her  little  hand?  She  could  bend  him, 
or  break  him  if  she  chose,  and  he  could  do  nothing  but 
go  on  loving  her  more  each  day  that  passed,  seeking 
by  every  art  he  knew  to  gain  a  place  in  her  heart. 
She  had  begun  to  take  him  into  the  smaller  interests 
of  her  life,  and  of  her  mother  and  Paul  she  always 
spoke  freely  to  him,  but  there  was  a  long  distance  for 
him  to  travel  yet. 

Could  he  in  time  win  forgiveness  from  her  for  the 
past?  He  had  begun  to  realize  what  it  was  he  had 
done  to  her.  The  desire  of  possession  had  been  really 
the  overpowering  motive  in  him,  and  it  had  set  aside 
everything  else  until  it  was  satisfied.  It  was  too 
overwhelming  in  its  force  to  leave  room  for  any- 

144 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 

thing  else  but  his  own  emotions.  Then  gradually  out 
of  the  chaos  of  his  sensations  had  emerged  a  new 
consciousness.  It  was  no  longer  just  the  passion  of 
a  lover  for  his  mistress,  but  the  love  of  a  man  for  a 
wife  who  was  beyond  everything  adorable.  He  would 
hide  her  carefully,  and  guard  every  avenue  of  ap- 
proach, she  must  be  his  in  the  mean  time,  but  he  would 
right  her  in  the  eyes  of  any  that  might  know.  Neither 
the  law  nor  his  money  could  accomplish  it  fast  enough. 
He  had  fought  Bronson  for  what  was  left  of  her 
birthright,  and  in  due  time  she  should  have  it.  When 
he  had  her  love,  she  should  not  feel  that  she  was  his 
dependent. 

And  could  he  win  it?  Why  not — where  had  he 
failed  yet?  After  the  first  he  could  not  discover 
that  she  shrank  from  him.  She  had  locked  herself 
up  within  herself,  and  he  had  no  adequate  key  to  her 
feelings.  She  appeared  to  have  decided  on  a  course 
of  conduct  and  adhered  to  it.  There  were  neither 
tears,  nor  depression,  nor  coquetry.  Her  manner  in 
general  expressed  more  nearly  an  indifference  that 
sought  not  to  offend,  yet  at  rare  intervals  she  flashed 
into  a  humor  that  was  sarcastic,  or  almost  frivolously 
contemptuous,  a  sort  of  surcharge  of  inward  irritation. 
But  much  more  often  the  child  appeared  in  her,  sweet 
and  lovable,  and  again  the  woman  who  flushed  warmly 
under  his  caresses.  There  were  now  and  then  flashes 
of  her  inner  self  that  escaped  in  spite  of  her  rigid 
reserve,  and  he  began  to  suspect  a  capacity  for  feel- 
10  145 


The  Winning  Chance 

ing  in  her  that  he  longed  to  fathom.  She  was  a 
mystery  and  a  joy,  a  child  to  treat  tenderly  lest  he 
hurt  her,  a  woman  to  subjugate  in  primitive  fashion, 
and  a  lady  to  court  and  win.  Varek's  mind  moved 
easily  in  complexities  and  his  joy  was  his  problem  as 
well.  Though  he  did  not  realize  it  as  yet,  the  rush 
of  his  day  was  becoming  a  side  issue,  and  the  other 
the  paramount  interest. 

His  car  had  gained  the  bluffs,  and  had  passed  sev- 
eral old-fashioned  houses  set  so  far  back  in  the  trees 
and  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  that  in  the  twilight  they 
were  almost  hidden.  In  front  of  one  of  these  places, 
the  grounds  of  which  occupied  almost  the  entire  block, 
he  alighted,  but  he  did  not  enter  the  iron  gateway. 
It  and  the  iron  fence  were  well  placarded  with  signs 
for  rent  and  sale,  and  from  the  dilapidated  look  of  the 
grounds  the  place  appeared  to  have  been  unoccupied 
for  some  time.  Yarek  kept  on  until  he  reached  the 
corner  and  then  turned  down  toward  the  river.  The 
road,  for  it  ceased  to  be  a  street  here,  was  cut  deeply 
into  the  brow  of  the  cliff,  running  between  high,  clay- 
colored,  almost  perpendicular  sides.  Yarek  kept  on 
for  some  distance,  almost  to  within  a  few  yards  of 
where  the  road,  reaching  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  a  veri- 
table jumping-off  place,  turned  suddenly  to  the  right. 
Here  a  long  flight  of  steps  led  up  the  face  of  the 
steep  cut,  and  Yarek  climbed  them.  They  brought 
him  to  the  very  top  of  the  bluff,  some  fifty  feet  above 

146 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 

the  road,  and  the  splendid  panorama  of  the  broad 
Mississippi  and  its  setting  lay  spread  out  below  him. 
At  the  left  twinkled  the  lights  of  the  city,  and  afar 
off  to  the  right  swept  the  curve  of  the  river  into 
the  dim  distance;  directly  opposite,  on  the  Illinois 
shore,  the  scattered  lights  were  beginning  to  appear. 
A  gentle  breeze  swept  along  the  face  of  the  cliffs,  and 
stirred  the  budding  branches  above  him,  and  Varek 
stopped  for  a  moment  and  lifted  his  hat  to  its  coolness. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  spot  that  had  claimed  his 
thoughts  for  hours. 

The  house  was  an  old,  many-gabled,  dormer-win- 
dowed structure,  clinging  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  all 
of  one  side  open  to  the  view.  It  was  so  far  back 
as  to  be  entirely  hidden  from  the  road  from  which 
Varek  had  ascended.  The  trees  and  shrubbery,  and  a 
high  fence  at  the  back  and  other  side,  effectually  con- 
cealed it  from  the  empty  mansion  whose  iron  gates 
Varek  had  passed.  Some  idler,  floating  down  the 
river  and  amusing  himself  with  his  glasses,  might  have 
spied  the  quaint  house  clinging  to  the  face  of  the 
bluff,  and  even  have  made  out  the  awning-covered 
balcony,  but  had  he  searched  for  it  on  land  he  would 
scarcely  have  found  it.  Its  first  owners  must  have 
been  seeking  seclusion  as  Varek  was. 

He  went  on  and  passed  round  to  the  terrace  under 
the  balcony.  In  the  fading  light  a  bit  of  white  and  a 
dark  head  showed  above  the  railing. 

147 


The  Winning  Chance 

"Peggy?"  he  called,  softly. 

The  head  moved  and  bent  toward  him,  the  face  in 
shadow.  "Leo,"  she  said,  "is  it  you?" 

' '  I  shall  be  up  in  a  minute, ' '  he  answered. 

He  went  in  by  the  kitchen,  turning  a  laughing 
face  to  the  very  fat  black  woman  who  was  frying 
something  savory  at  the  stove. 

"Fo'  de  Lord's  sake,  Mr.  Leo,"  she  exclaimed, 
"why  ain't  yo'  tel'phone  you  is  comin'!  I  done 
twist  another  chicken  neck  effen  I  knowed  it." 

"Too  much  of  a  hurry  to  get  here,"  Varek  called 
back  as  he  went.  "Fry  me  some  chips,  Dinah,  they'll 
be  good  if  you  cook  them." 

"I  reckon  dey  will,"  sniffed  the  woman,  scorn- 
fully. "You,  Sam,  where  is  yo'?"  she  shouted. 

"I's  changin'  ma  coat,"  a  voice  answered  from 
somewhere  within;  "what  yo'  want?"  Sam  showed 
his  yellow  face  at  the  pantry  door. 

"Yo'  take  dat  white  coat  off  quicker 'n  yo'  put  it 
on,"  commanded  Dinah,  "an'  go  out  to  de  chicken- 
coop  and  fetch  me  dat  young  yaller  rooster — go  on, 
I  say,  ain't  yo'  see  Mr.  Leo?" 

"I  reckon  I  gets  de  champagne  too,"  said  Sam. 

"Yo'  get  what  yo'  has  a  mind  ter,  but  you  get 
me  dat  chicken  fust,"  said  Dinah,  grimly  whetting 
the  butcher  knife. 

Varek  had  gone  on  into  the  hall  and  upstairs,  his 
eyes  seeking  as  he  went  the  wide  door  of  the  living- 

148 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 

room.  Janet  had  turned  on  the  lights,  and  their 
rose-colored  shades  cast  a  rich  glow  over  her  as  she 
turned  to  meet  him.  She  was  dressed  in  some  soft, 
white,  clinging  material,  her  neck  low  to  her 
shoulders,  and  her  arms  bare  save  where  little  ribbon 
bows  above  the  elbows  held  together  the  flowing 
sleeves. 

She  gave  her  hand  to  Varek  and  he  kissed  it,  his 
eyes  on  hers,  and  then  with  a  murmured  word  of 
endearment  he  caught  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  long 
and  passionately. 

"If  Dinah  didn't  expect  me,  I  hope  you  did," 
he  said  at  length,  but  not  letting  her  go.  "God!  two 
whole  days  without  a  sight  or  touch  of  you !  Did  you 
think  I  could  stay  away  to-night  ? ' ' 

' '  I  thought  you  would  come  after  supper.  I  knew 
you  were  very  busy, ' '  Janet  answered. 

"You  put  on  your  prettiest  dress  for  me,"  said 
he,  touching  it. 

"It's  not  nearly  as  grand  as  some,"  she  returned, 
lightly,  and  drawing  herself  out  of  his  arms,  she  made 
a  sweeping  gesture  backward.  "Why,  the  last  has 
a  train  on  it  so  long — and  it  wrapped  itself  round 
that  table  and  broke  the  nose  of  the  big  bronze 
Buddha.  It  happened  yesterday,  Leo;  won't  you 
look  at  it?" 

"Confound  his  nose!"  said  Varek,  half  amused, 
half  irritated  at  her  escape  from  him.  "I  will  very 

149 


The  Winning  Chance 

willingly  study  the  same  feature  on  your  face,  though, 
Peggy.     Please  come  here  and  sit  down  by  me. ' ' 

She  stood  as  if  considering,  and  then  came  and  sat 
down  quietly,  and  he  piled  the  cushions  behind  her. 
While  his  hand  sought  the  warm,  round  arm  under  her 
flowing  sleeve,  he  gave  her  half-averted  face  his  usual 
keen  scrutiny. 

"You  don't  look  well,  little  one;  is  it  the  heat?" 
he  asked. 

"I  don't  know;  I  hadn't  thought  about  it,"  she 
said,  indifferently.  "It  seemed  nice  to  be  on  the 
porch." 

"There's  a  shadow  here,  and  a  little  line  there," 
Varek  went  on,  touching  her  cheek,  and  the  corner 
of  her  mouth.  * '  What  is  it,  Peggy  ? — Must  I  guess  ? ' ' 

"It's  Paul,"  said  Janet,  quietly.  "I  didn't  want 
to  bother  you  till  after  dinner.  It's  not  fair  to  rush 
at  you  with  my  worries  the  minute  you  come  in  the 
door.  Are  you  never  tired,  Leo?"  She  looked  half 
smiling,  half  sadly  at  him  from  under  her  long  lashes. 

"Of  what?"  he  asked,  tenderly. 

"Oh,  of  always  thinking  and  deciding  things,  my 
affairs  as  well  as  yours." 

"If  you  will  look  at  me  again,  if  you  will  lift  your 
head, — I  will  tell  you  what  I  am  not  tired  of — please, 
Peggy — just  one.  I'll  leave  you  alone  then,  111  go 
change  and  wash  up,  and  talk  sensibly  to  you  about 
Paul.  Please,  sweetheart ! ' ' 

150 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 

She  raised  her  head  without  either  eagerness  or 
reluctance,  and  received  his  caress  in  silence,  but 
when  he  left  her  she  got  up  and  moved  restlessly 
about,  touching  the  keys  of  the  piano  gently  as  she 
passed.  She  was  very  beautiful  in  the  warm  light. 
The  pinched  look  of  want  and  exhaustion  was  gone, 
and  her  cheek  had  regained  its  curve.  There  was  an 
exquisitely  cared-for  air  about  her  whole  personality. 
She  looked  a  little  taller  and  older  in  her  sweeping 
gown,  but  the  greatest  change  was  in  her  expression. 
Her  face  had  never  been  a  vivacious  one;  even  when 
brightened  by  her  smile  and  the  deep  light  of  her 
wonderful  eyes  it  could  not  come  under  that  designa- 
tion— the  impression  produced  was  too  strong.  But 
now  the  stillness  of  her  face  was  extraordinary.  A 
stranger  struck  by  it  would  have  searched  his  or  her 
memory  for  a  likeness  to  it,  and  found  it  in  the  still 
face  of  some  woman  who  had  laid  away  her  only  child. 
It  was  a  strange  expression  for  a  girl. 

Janet  looked  up  at  Varek  with  a  smile  when  he 
came  in.  "I  am  afraid  dinner  will  be  late;  are  you 
very  hungry?"  she  asked. 

"Just  a  trifle,"  he  said,  grinning.  "What's  the 
program?" 

"Fried  chicken  and  cream  gravy,  rice,  corn-pone, 
baked  tomatoes,  banana  fritters,  and  strawberries," 
Janet  announced,  gravely. 

"Lord!"  laughed  Varek,  "you're  all  darkies  to- 
151 


The  Winning  Chance 

gether.  If  you  could  only  get  in  baked  sweet-pota- 
toes and  a  ham-bone  or  two,  it  would  be  perfect.  All 
that  sounds  half  an  hour  off  though,  so  come  let's  talk 
business  now,  Peggy.  I  don't  want  anything  but  you 
and  the  moonlight  afterwards."  He  drew  her  down 
beside  him  as  he  spoke.  "You  went  to  see  Paul  then 
this  morning." 

"Yes,  and,  Leo,  that  man  was  there,  that  Doane. 
Why  do  they  let  him  come  to  the  hospital  ?  They  can 
keep  out  any  one  they  choose.  Paul  was  so  flushed 
and  excited,  and  Doane  went  away,  and  I  think  Paul 
was  furious  at  my  having  interrupted  them.  He — he 
wouldn  't  speak  to  me. ' '  Her  lips  quivered. 

Varek's  face  darkened,  but  he  spoke  gently. 
"Don't  let  it  hurt  you,  dear;  he's  just  a  sick  boy." 

"I  felt  so  angry  at  their  letting  that  man  come  that 
I  asked  for  the  head  nurse,  and  she  said  that  it  was 
Dr.  Friederhof 's  express  order  that  Mr.  Doane  should 
be  allowed  to  come  often.  What  does  it  mean,  Leo?" 

"Does  your  mother  know  anything  about  it?" 
asked  Varek. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Janet,  horrified.  "She  thinks 
there  are  hopes  of  Paul's  getting  well — poor  little 
mother. ' ' 

"There  are  hopes;  Friederhof  has  convinced  me  of 
it,"  said  Varek,  positively.  "I  should  have  told 
you  the  whole  thing,  but  I  didn't  want  you  thinking 
about  it.  He  says,  Peggy,  that  your  brother  Paul 
is  no  more  lame  than  you  or  I.  The  examinations 

152 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 

show  nothing  at  all  the  matter  with  his  back ;  he  just 
imagines  it." 

"Paul  not  a  cripple!"  said  the  girl,  in  utter 
amazement.  "Leo,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what  I  said.  Friederhof  declares  that  he 
can  walk  if  he  will.  He  calls  him  a  self-hypnotic, 
and  he  has  studied  him  carefully. ' ' 

"Paul  walk!"  said  Janet,  almost  in  a  whisper. 
"Will  you  tell  me  next  that  mother  is  not  blind?" 
She  was  very  pale. 

"I  wish  I  could,  sweetheart,  but  your  mother  is 
happy  and  Paul  is  not.  It 's  been  Friederhof 's  problem 
to  find  a  way  of  rousing  him.  He  says  that  if  Paul 
can  have  such  a  tremendous  interest  that  it  will  drive 
out  the  idea  of  his  imagined  condition  he  will,  if  sur- 
rounded by  entirely  new  influences,  not  revert  to 
it.  Of  course,  he  had  to  work  a  lot  on  theory.  At 
first  he  let  your  brother  have  some  medical  books  and 
he  paid  careful  attention  to  Paul's  interest  in  what 
he  read.  He  says  it's  all  been  just  the  fostering 
of  his  one  morbid  idea.  Aside  from  that  reading, 
Paul  hasn't  taken  a  particle  of  interest  in  anything 
at  the  hospital.  I  told  him  of  Paul's  passion  for 
gambling  and  the  influence  of  this  Doane,  and  Fried- 
erhof determined,  if  we  would  allow  him,  to  try  an 
experiment.  I  told  him  that  though  I  acted  as  guar- 
dian, you  would  be  the  one  to  decide."  Varek  paused 
at  the  girl's  troubled,  wondering  look. 

153 


The  Winning  Chance 

"Leo,  he  doesn't  mean  to  take  that  way?"  she 
asked. 

"Well,  now  listen  to  Friederhof 's  plan,  and  he  has 
experimented  enough  with  Paul  to  feel  sure  that  it 
will  work.  He  will  make  Paul  feel  that  he  is  in  a 
way  a  prisoner  and  watched.  He  will  take  away  his 
crutches,  and  tell  him  to  keep  his  bed,  and  be  pretty 
sharp  about  it.  He  will  let  Doane  see  him  and  talk 
to  him,  and  at  a  word  from  us,  and  some  money,  Doane 
will  help  us.  It  will  be  Paul's  interest  in  gambling 
primarily  that  will  be  worked  upon,  but  once  out  and 
on  his  feet,  and  capable  like  other  men,  Friederhof 
says  he  won't  fall  back.  "Why  just  think,  it  would  be 
like  offering  a  world  of  new  things  to  a  man  who  has 
been  locked  up  from  his  childhood.  Doane  would 
have  to  take  charge  of  him  for  a  while,  for  he  is  the 
only  one  who  has  any  influence  with  him.  I  know 
Doane,  and  I  can  fix  him  to  steer  Paul  away  rather 
than  into  trouble.  Then  when  your  brother  gets  his 
bearings,  he  must  have  other  surroundings.  Here 
I  come  in  with  my  plan  to  Friederhof.  I  have  a  ranch 
in  Colorado  far  enough  away  from  cities  to  make  it 
feasible.  If  Paul  shows  himself  capable  of  being  in- 
terested in  sensible  things,  I  propose  to  send  him  out 
there.  The  manager  is  as  square  a  man  as  I  know, 
and  he  keeps  a  fairly  clean,  well-behaved  lot  of  men 
under  him,  and  Paul  can  have  his  chance.  Your 
brother  hates  me  because  I  am  big  and  strong,  but  I 

154 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 

have  an  idea  that  if  he  can  walk  as  straight  as  the 
rest,  he  will  try  to  emulate  them.  It's  a  lot  guess- 
work, Peggy,  but  it's  for  you  to  say." 

"I  seem  to  have  hard  things  to  decide,"  said 
Janet,  painfully,  "and  I  have  no  knowledge,  nothing 
but  my  feelings  to  help  me." 

"They  are  truer  than  wise  men's  conclusions,  little 
one. "  Yarek  touched  her  bent  head  tenderly,  and  all 
that  was  best  in  him  showed  in  the  look  he  gave  her. 

"I  have  no  right  to  deprive  Paul  of  his  chance — 
but,  oh,  Leo,  I  am  afraid,  so  afraid  of  the  future." 
She  looked  up  and  caught  the  light  in  his  face.  It  was 
not  the  only  time  in  the  last  weeks  that  she  had  seen 
the  look  that  she  trusted.  If  only  it  was  not  wiped 
out  so  soon  by  all  that  came  between.  As  she  knew 
it  would,  his  face  changed. 

"Our  futures  are  mostly  what  we  make  them," 
he  said,  in  his  abrupt  way.  "Now  let  me  give  you 
a  piece  of  advice,  Peggy,  and  it's  sound:  never  worry 
over  a  venture;  that's  one  of  the  first  rules.  There 
will  be  one  of  the  cleverest  specialists  in  this  country 
with  his  eye  on  Paul,  and  my  level  head  is  at  his 
service  as  welL  To  my  mind  it's  a  good  chance  to 
win  out.  Smile  on  me  a  little  to-night,  Peggy,  I  need 
it, — and  let  the  rest  go  to — well — Guinea. ' ' 

"Mr.  Leo,"  said  Sam  at  the  door,  "here  am  yo' 
cocktail,  suh,  and  Dinah,  she  says  dinner  am  on  de 
table  in  five  minutes." 

155 


IV. 

THE  BALCONY 

"WHERE'S  your  wrap?"  asked  Varek,  as  they 
stepped  out  on  the  balcony  an  hour  later.  "  It 's  warm 
out  here,  but  you  must  have  something  round  you." 

"I  have  my  coat,"  said  Janet. 

"I  don't  mean  that  thing,"  Varek  said,  in  disgust. 
"It  has  sleeves;  I  mean  that  long  loose  one  Lassie 
barks  at." 

"Oh,  my  cape — but,  Leo,  please  wait  a  minute — I 
have  forgotten  something,"  and  she  sped  off  down- 
stairs. 

' '  What 's  up  now,  I  wonder, ' '  said  Varek.  He  was 
flushed  after  his  dinner  and  he  wanted  his  coffee 
and  a  cigar.  He  waited  rather  impatiently,  leaning 
against  the  open  French  window. 

Presently  Janet  appeared,  walking  slowly  and 
holding  her  hands  to  her  bosom.  Sam  brought  up  the 
rear  with  the  coffee  cups,  and  a  beautifully  marked 
little  fox-terrier  trotted  beside  her,  its  head  cocked 
up  at  an  interested  angle.  Janet's  eyes  were  shining, 
and  her  red  lips  parted. 

"Sit  down,  Leo,  please,  I  want  to  show  you  some- 
thing," she  said.  She  slipped  to  the  floor  beside  him 
then,  and  laid  her  two  hands  gently  on  his  knees.  In 

156 


The  Balcony 

the  hollow  of  each  hand  lay  a  tiny  puppy,  the  small 
noses  nuzzling  her  warm  palm.  Lassie,  resting  two 
nervous  paws  on  Janet's  arm,  surveyed  her  property 
with  an  air  of  mingled  pride  and  anxiety,  while  the 
delight  of  a  small  child  radiated  her  mistress's  up- 
turned face. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  cried  Yarek.  "So,  Lassie,  you 
have  gone  and  done  it!" 

"Leo,  they  are  so  soft  and  wriggly,"  said  the  girl. 
"Put  your  face  down  and  touch  them.  Aren't  they 
dear?  Dinah  came  half  way  down  the  steps  to  tell 
me,  when  I  got  back  from  my  drive.  Sam  says  they 
are  beauties,  that  he  took  care  of  kennels  once. ' ' 

"They're  like  baby  white  rats,"  said  Varek  teas- 
ingly,  his  eyes  on  the  girl  at  his  knee,  not  the  puppies. 

"7  don't  think  so!"  returned  Janet,  indignantly. 
"You  don't  appreciate  them.  They  are  soft  and 
pretty — all  but  their  tails,"  she  added,  eying  doubt- 
fully the  slender  appendages  that  tickled  her  wrists. 
"I  wish  they  had  been  short  like  Lassie's." 

Varek 's  features  underwent  a  sudden  convulsion, 
and  Sam  snorted.  "When  I  done  bitten  dem 
off "  he  began. 

' '  Put  that  tray  down,  you  idiot ! ' '  interposed  Varek 
in  a  tone  that  made  Sam  jump  a  foot.  "Don't  you 
see  you  are  spilling  my  coffee  ? ' ' 

Janet  gazed  after  the  retreating  Sam  in  amaze- 
ment, but  Varek  was  appreciating  the  puppies.  "I 

157 


The  Winning  Chance 

was  teasing  you,  Peggy,"  he  said.  "They  are  just 
about  the  best-marked  pups  I  ever  saw.  They're 
cunning  toads,  sure  enough." 

The  girl's  puzzled  look  brightened  a  little.  "I'm 
wondering  what  to  name  them,"  she  said. 

"Well,  how  would  Trip  and  Trick  do?  They  have 
the  advantage  of  suiting  either  gender."  Varek's 
face  was  perfectly  serious,  but  the  girl  moved  from 
under  the  hand  he  had  laid  on  her  shoulder. 

"I  reckon  they  would  rather  go  to  bed  than  be 
christened,"  she  said,  carelessly.  "If  you  will  ring, 
Sam  can  get  them."  She  stood  looking  down  at  her 
hands  until  he  came  with  the  basket  and  then  she 
laid  them  gently  down.  "Don't  you  drop  them, 
Sam,"  she  cautioned.  She  turned  to  Varek  with  her 
light  lift  of  lip  and  shoulder.  "Now,  Leo,  my  cape, 
and  the  porch,  and  your  coffee  you  have  been  hank- 
erin '  for  so  long. ' ' 

Varek  knew  that  he  had  hurt  her,  and  he  was 
sorry.  Yet  he  rather  liked  the  way  she  held  her 
head  as  she  served  his  coffee.  He  had  turned  on  the 
porch  light,  and  she  sat  with  her  back  to  the  wall  of 
darkness  beyond.  She  had  dropped  her  wrap,  and  the 
blackness  framed  her,  bringing  out  the  beautiful  lines 
of  neck  and  arm.  Yarek  as  he  finished  his  coffee  and 
feasted  his  eyes  was  surprised  as  he  had  been  many 
times  before  at  her  wonderful  self-control.  Her  face 
had  quivered  with  a  pain  born  of  an  emotion  to® 

158 


The  Balcony 

strong  for  only  his  teasing  manner  to  have  caused, 
yet  her  hand  was  steady  and  her  head  high.  She 
merely  touched  her  coffee,  and  setting  her  cup  down 
she  half  turned,  and  gazed  fixedly  into  the  darkness. 
The  somber  quiet  of  her  face  was  as  far  removed 
as  the  poles  from  the  look  that  had  made  it  vivid 
a  few  moments  before. 

Varek  had  the  sudden  feeling  of  isolation  that 
sometimes  touched  him  like  a  cold  breath;  an  urgent 
desire  to  know  what  it  was  she  was  pondering.  He 
would  ask  his  question,  and  be  answered  as  he  had 
been  frequently  before;  a  little  later  her  head  would 
lie  on  his  breast,  but  he  would  know  only  what  he 
could  guess  of  what  was  passing  in  her  mind. 

He  bent  toward  her.  "A  thousand  dollars  for 
your  thoughts,  Peggy,"  he  said,  and  she  scarcely 
turned  her  head.  "What  extravagance!  Where  is 
your  business  sense  ? ' '  she  returned,  lightly.  ' '  They  're 
not  worth  the  usual  penny." 

"You  might  let  me  judge." 

"Will  you  have  the  light  while  you  smoke?"  she 
asked,  coldly. 

"We'll  have  it  dark,"  he  said.  "Maybe  I'll  feel 
then  that  you're  not  a  mile  away." 

He  drew  up  a  settee  and  flung  an  armful  of  cush- 
ions into  it,  and  they  were  suddenly  wrapped  in  warm 
darkness.  Dinah's  laugh,  subdued,  came  floating  up 
to  them  from  the  back,  and  then  it  was  very  still. 

159 


The  Winning  Chance 

Varek  smoked,  and  Janet  drew  her  wrap  more  closely 
about  her,  her  eyes  on  the  scattered  lights  that  danced 
in  the  black  abyss. 

"Look,  sweetheart,"  said  Varek,  touching  her. 
Far  away,  and  below  them  as  it  seemed,  there  showed 
a  curved  rim  of  light,  slowly  emerging  as  out  of  an 
inky  ocean.  "The  moon,"  said  Janet  softly, — "how 
quickly  it  grows." 

Varek  threw  his  cigar  far  out  from  the  balcony, 
and  it  made  a  curve,  its  lighted  tip  visible  as  it  fell. 
His  groping  hands  sought  her  in  the  darkness. 
"Won't  you  forgive  me,  Peggy,  for  teasing  in 
there?"  he  asked.  "I  love  you  a  thousand  times 
more  for  being  a  little  girl  like  that.  I  wonder  some- 
times how  I  dare  touch  you." 

"Oh,  /  don't  mind,"  said  Janet,  quick  to  ward  off 
a  scene.  "  It 's  silly  of  me  to  care  for  little  soft  things 
like  that,  and  not  to  understand  about  fox-terrier's 
tails.  Do  they  always  bite  them  off  when  they  are 
little?"  and  she  shivered,  disgustedly. 

"It's  supposed  to  be  the  proper  method,"  said 
Varek,  "but  I'll  wring  Sam's  neck  for  him.  Peggy, 
is  there  no  way  to  get  inside  this  winding-sheet  you 
have  around  you?  I'll  bet  the  coat  I  got  for  you  to- 
day will  be  easier  to  handle." 

"Another  coat,"  said  the  girl,  wearily.  "Leo,  I 
wish  you  would  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
more  of  everything  than  I  want. ' ' 

160 


The  Balcony 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  your  needing  it,  I  am 
afraid, ' '  said  Varek.  ' '  I  got  it  because  of  your  eyes. 
It 's  all  greens,  with  water-lilies,  and  stems,  and  leaves 
standing  out  all  over  it,  and  running  up  from  the  tail. 
It's  a  thing  with  big  bags  for  sleeves  and  it's  not  got 
any  collar.  It  folds  over  something  like  my  smoking- 
jacket,  and  I  bought  it  of  five  grinning  Japs.  Peggy, 
it's  a  beauty!" 

"It  must  be,"  said  Janet,  laughing  in  spite  of  her 
annoyance.  "What  a  description! — Possibly  it's  a 
kimono  ? ' ' 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  name  of  the 
creature,"  Varek  continued,  earnestly,  "but  it  is  the 
shade  of  green  I  have  wanted  for  months.  It'll  make 
your  eyes  as  blue  as  it  makes  Peg  "Woffington's  in 
that  little  painting  I  have  at  the  office.  That's  why 
I've  always  called  you  'Peggy,'  did  you  know  it?  I 
got  a  good  look  at  your  eyes  one  day,  and  they  were 
the  shade  that  Irishman  gave  Mistress  Woffington. 
Why,  I  spent  an  hour  getting  it  for  you  this  afternoon, 
and  kept  three  railroad  men  waiting  a  half  hour, 
swearing  themselves  blue  in  the  face,  and  I  was  as 
tickled  as  if  I  had  put  through  a  hundred  thousand 
dollar  deal.  Now,  don 't  you  want  your  coat,  Peggy  ? ' ' 

"You  spend  too  much  time  thinking  about  me," 
said  Janet. 

"Do  I?  Well,  I  can't  help  it  then.  Peggy,  you 
warm  little  round  thing!  How  I  have  wanted  you! 
11  161 


The  Winning  Chance 

I  have  been  longing  for  this  all  day.  What  do  you 
think  is  going  to  become  of  me  if  I  go  on  like  this  ? 
I  thought  a  month  ago  that  I  loved  you  with  every  bit 
of  me,  and  here  it's  nothing  compared  to  to-day. 
You  will  give  me  a  little  in  return — by  and  by — you 
will  out  of  pure  pity?  Is  there  no  way  I  can  touch 
the  woman  in  you  ?  I  sometimes  think  that  if  I  kissed 
you  long  enough  you  would  find  your  heart!"  He 
spoke  fiercely,  his  hot  lips  on  hers. 

"Hush,"  she  sighed, — "you  hurt  me  so!"  He 
loosened  his  hold  a  little,  and  they  sat  silent,  save 
for  his  quickly  drawn  breath,  and  her  eyes  closed 
wearily.  The  moon  climbed  higher,  gradually  dispell- 
ing the  darkness,  its  pale  light  creeping  in  between 
the  branches  and  marking  their  shadows  on  the 
ground.  It  stole  in  under  the  awning,  and  rested  on 
Janet's  quiet  face,  and  Varek's  hot  brow.  He  looked 
down  at  her  head  on  his  breast,  and  her  perfect 
stillness  helped  to  calm  him.  "Patience,  have  pa- 
tience," said  the  voice  within  him, — "you  urge  too 
much." 

The  headlight  of  an  engine  came  slowly  round  the 
far  distant  curve  of  the  river,  and  drew  its  length 
glow-worm-like  along  the  foot  of  the  bluffs.  "The 
train,  Peggy, ' '  Varek  whispered.  She  raised  her  head, 
watching  it,  and  presently  it  passed  below  them  with 
a  roar  and  shrill  whistle,  making  its  way  up  river  into 
the  smoke  and  clatter  of  the  city. 

162 


The  Balcony 

"I  have  described  and  described  this  to  mother," 
Janet  said,  ' '  all  this  view ;  do  you  think  she  can  really 
have  any  idea  of  it  ?  It  was  pleasant  enough  to  take 
her  driving  this  morning,  and  we  went  to  the  park. 
I  think  she  looks  a  little  better  every  day,  and  she  is 
as  merry  as  a  bird.  I  loved  to  hear  her."  Varek 
knew  why  she  spoke.  It  was  her  way  of  telling  him 
that  if  she  did  not  give  him  what  he  asked  for,  she 
was  at  least  grateful  for  her  mother's  sake.  It  was 
pathetic  in  its  appeal  to  him,  and  he  met  it  half  way. 

"Your  mother  and  I  are  great  friends,"  said  he, 
"and  I  like  to  hear  her  talk.  You  have  some  of  her 
gestures,  but  you  are  not  really  alike.  She  was  telling 
me  the  other  day  when  I  went  to  see  her  about  your 
running  off  to  a  darky  camp-meeting  when  you  were 
little,  and  when  they  found  you,  you  were  calmly 
sitting  on  the  mourner's  bench,  taking  in  everything 
that  went  on." 

' '  I  remember, ' '  laughed  Janet,  softly.  ' '  They  are 
fun,  the  old-fashioned  darkies. ' ' 

"I  haven't  any  patience  with  them,"  said  Varek. 
"They  are  born  thieves,  every  one  of  them,  and  so 
confounded  lazy." 

"But  such  a  comfort,  Leo,  for  they  make  one 
laugh,  and  forget  things.  Last  night  one  of  them 
came  up  with  a  banjo  from  that  settlement  down  by 
the  river,  and  I  lay  out  here  in  the  hammock  and  I 
forgot  I  was  not  in  Virginia.  There,  when  the  spring 

163 


The  Winning  Chance 

nights  came,  like  to-night,  you  could  hear  the  banjos 
at  the  cabins,  and  I  would  run  through  the  fields, 
though  I  was  afraid  of  the  dark,  and  sit  with  the 
pickaninnies  and  listen,  and  Mammy  Wilda  would 
come  after  me  and  forget  to  take  me  home,  for  they 
would  dance." 

Varek  looked  down  into  her  wide  eyes  with  a  tight- 
ening in  his  throat.  "Do  you  like  to  dance,  little 
one  ? "  he  asked.  What  return  was  he  giving  her  for 
her  youth? 

She  leaned  back  against  his  arm  with  a  long  drawn 
breath.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "Miss  Editha  taught  me. 
She  was  very  poor  and  old,  but  they  were  the  grandest 
people  before  the  war.  She  used  to  go  to  the  most 
beautiful  balls  in  Baltimore  and  Washington,  and  was 
a  great  belle;  but  the  war  killed  her  father,  and 
brother,  and  lover,  and  she  had  no  one.  Though  she 
was  old  she  was  very  graceful.  She  taught  me  the 
little  I  know  of  music  too.  She  used  to  scold  me  if  I 
talked  like  the  darkies,  and  she  would  make  me  say 
my  words  right — I  loved  Miss  Editha." 

"Have  you  danced  much,  Peggy?"  There  was 
growing  in  him  a  jealousy  of  that  past  of  which  she 
always  spoke  so  happily. 

"I've  been  to  just  one  ball  in  my  life,"  said  the 
girl,  wistfully. 

"At  your  home,  little  one?" 

"No,  in  New  York.  Father  took  me  with  him 
164 


The  Balcony 

once,  when  I  was  sixteen,  and  I  stayed  a  month.  I 
felt  ten  years  older  when  I  went  home,  I  had  learned 
so  much;  the  theatres,  and  drives,  and  the  ball!  I 
had  a  beautiful  dress  for  it,  and  I  was  terrified  before- 
hand for  fear  I  wouldn't  behave  right,  but  when  I 
saw  the  lights,  and  the  flowers,  and  the  pretty  dresses, 
I  forgot.  Then  when  the  music  came,  I  was  'clane 
outside  of  mesilf,'  as  Lizzie  says." 

"I  suppose  you  had  a  few  partners,"  said  Varek, 
rather  grimly. 

''Yes,  but  I  didn't  behave  myself  very  well  after 
all,"  said  Janet,  smiling  in  reminiscence.  "There 
were  such  a  lot  of  men  coming  up  and  scribbling  on 
my  program,  and  then  I  forgot  all  about  them,  and 
danced  most  of  the  time  with  one  man." 

"You  did!"  said  Varek,  sharply.  "Who  was 
he?" 

"His  name  was  Dorsey  Carroll,  and  he  took  me 
to  supper,  and  he  certainly  did  dance  beautifully!" 

"Some  cub,"  Varek  growled,  contemptuously. 
"What  did  he  look  like?" 

Janet  noticed  his  tone  for  the  first  time,  and  a 
gleam  of  mischief  shone  under  her  lashes.  She  was 
for  the  time  being  back  in  that  bright  ball  room  with 
all  the  new  sensations  it  had  aroused  in  her,  and  she 
unconsciously  looked  and  spoke  her  part.  In  her  rest- 
lessness she  had  jerked  loose  from  the  tight  rein  she 
usually  kept  on  herself. 

165 


The  Winning  Chance 

' '  He  was  as  tall  as  you,  and  fair,  and  he  had  broad 
shoulders,  but  his  eyes  were  the  nicest.  He  wasn't 
a  cub  either,  he  was  ever  so  much  older  than  I,  for  he 
had  finished  college.  He  talked  so  well,  and  was  so 
handsome,  I  didn't  want  to  dance  with  any  one  else. 
,Then  too  he  was  clever  enough  to  know  how  to  keep 
me  to  himself." 

"Yes,  damned  impudence!"  said  Varek,  in  a  fury. 
"Where  was  your  father  all  this  time?" 

"I  think  he  was  talking  to  a  lady  in  the  conser- 
vatory." 

"And  I  suppose  you  have  been  dreaming  about 
that  fellow  ever  since,  curse  him !"  said  Varek,  his  face 
working.  "Have  you  seen  him  since?"  He  tight- 
ened his  hold  on  her  roughly,  and  she  looked  up  into 
his  face,  but  the  sight  of  it  brought  the  burning  color 
into  her  own.  A  flood  of  shame  and  heartsickness 
swept  over  her.  Was  this  the  way  she  kept  her  word 
to  herself?  What  right  had  she  to  be  talking  or 
thinking  of  her  girlhood.  It  belonged  to  another 
life,  another  being  entirely. 

"I  was  only  teasing,  I  don't  know  why,"  she  said 
dully.  "Excuse  me,  Leo." 

"Don't  do  it  again,  Peggy;  it  makes  me  sick  all 
over  with  rage.  I  dreamed  one  night  you  cared  for 
some  one,  and  I  think  I  killed  him  twenty  times  be- 
fore I  woke  up.  It  would  be  easy  for  you  to  drive 
me  mad,  but  you  won't  do  it;  I've  seen  mighty  little 

166 


The  Balcony 

of  the  eat  in  you."  He  spoke  thickly,  and  Janet 
had  no  answer  to  make.  If  she  had  been  alone  she 
would  have  walked  up  and  down  as  she  had  the  night 
before,  as  she  had  on  many  other  nights.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  he  must  understand  the  impatient  beating 
of  the  heart  that  lay  under  the  pressure  of  his  hand; 
in  the  perfect  stillness  each  throb  sounded  loud  in  her 
ears.  It  was  Varek  who  spoke  later  on.  "Peggy, 
does  it  mean  a  lot  to  you,  all  that  background  of 
yours  ? "  he  asked.  * '  I  mean  knowing  who  your  great- 
grandfathers were,  and  all  that  ? ' ' 

"In  a  way  it  does,"  she  answered,  slowly.  "But 
it  hurts — too." 

Varek  did  not  seem  to  hear  her  remark,  for  he  was 
following  out  his  own  thoughts.  "There's  precious 
little  I  have  to  look  back  on  in  the  way  of  ancestry," 
he  said  musingly.  "The  only  relative  I  ever  possessed 
to  my  knowledge,  was  my  mother.  She  was  a  Rus- 
sian, Peggy,  a  Eussian  Jewess — not  just  a  common 
immigrant,  and  I  know  that  from  an  incident,  one  of 
the  first  things  I  can  remember.  She  took  me  with 
her  to  the  docks  one  day  to  meet  some  of  her  people, 
and  I  gathered  that  they  were  from  her  own  part  of 
the  country.  They  were  a  wretched  lot,  but  the  men 
touched  their  foreheads  to  her  and  the  women  dipped 
in  a  sort  of  courtesy,  and  she  spoke  to  them  like  one 
who  had  the  right  to  command. 

"My  mother  worked  most  of  the  day  in  some  fac- 
167 


The  Winning  Chance 

tory,  but  in  the  evenings  she  would  teach  English 
to  the  foreigners  that  came,  Jews  and  Germans,  that 
were  eager  to  learn.  She  must  have  known  the  lan- 
guage well  before  she  came  to  this  country,  for  she 
spoke  it  so  well,  and  German  too.  She  was  a  very 
handsome  woman,  tall  and  stately,  and  I  stood  in  awe 
of  her.  She  died  when  I  was  nine  years  old,  but  she 
fixed  her  impression  on  me  before  she  went.  She 
walked  with  me  more  than  once  in  the  heart  of  the 
city.  'This  greatness  about  you,  Leo, — it  is  all  pos- 
sible to  you, '  she  would  say.  '  It  lies  here  in  thy  little 
head  alone, — learn  then  to  use  it  well.  This  country 
— it  is  the  future  of  my  people, ' — she  never  once  said 
'our  people'  to  me,  and  she  would  speak  nothing  to  me 
but  English.  Poor  as  we  were,  she  kept  me  rigidly  at 
school,  and  she  would  have  no  idleness.  'These  that 
run  in  the  street,'  she  would  say,  'they  will  still  run 
there  when  you  are  like  a  king  above  them.  It  is 
money  makes  a  king  in  this  land,  learn  then  to  win 
it.' '  Varek  paused.  "I  can  see  the  look  of  her 
now  as  plainly  as  I  did  then.  She  had  a  wonderful 
will."  He  drew  a  deep  breath  before  he  went  on. 
"Peggy,  I  know  no  more  who  my  father  was  than  you 
do;  no  reference  to  him  ever  crossed  my  mother's  lips, 
but  the  old  white-haired  Jew  who  came  when  she 
died  told  me  all  I've  ever  known.  'It  is  thy  mother's 
wish  that  thou  shalt  grow  up  among  thy  father's 
people,'  he  said;  'he  was  a  Gentile;'  and  he  put  me  in 

168 


The  Balcony 

a  German  family,  where  I  lived  until  my  mother's 
little  savings  were  gone,  and  then  I  fended  for  my- 
self."  Varek  stopped. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  told  me  about  your  mother," 
Janet  said,  thoughtfully. 

" Why,  Peggy?" 

"It  explains  you  in  some  ways." 

"So  you  think  about  me  sometimes,  do  you,  little 
one?  I  am  going  to  hunt  up  my  beginnings  now; 
there  are  a  few  things  I  should  like  to  know,  now  I 
have  you.  I  never  cared  a  red  cent  about  it  before." 
Janet  was  silent  and  Varek  sank  into  one  of  his 
reveries,  and  it  was  very  still  again.  A  night  bird 
flew  close  to  them  with  a  soft  whir  of  wings.  Out  of 
the  pale  lights  and  shadows  far  below  them  there 
sounded  the  notes  of  some  stringed  instrument 
touched  carelessly,  and  Janet  moved,  listening.  It 
came  again,  nearer,  accompanied  by  a  ripple  of 
laughter,  and  Varek  bent  his  cheek  to  her  dark  hair. 
"What  is  it,  sweetheart?"  he  asked. 

"It's  on  the  road  coming  up  from  below;  it's  a 
banjo,  and  I  know  from  the  laugh  they're  darkies. 
Listen,  Leo!"  The  laughter  grew  more  distinct, 
bearing  clearly  the  abandon  of  the  negro ;  even  Varek 
recognized  it.  The  banjo  strummed  a  cord  or  two 
and  the  voices  rose  in  an  accompaniment,  a  minor 
repetition. 

"They  are  coming  here,"  said  Janet  in  suppressed 
169 


The  Winning  Chance 

excitement.  "Leo,  they'll  build  a  bonfire  and  sing. 
I'm  so  glad — so  glad !"  He  had  no  heart  to  growl  his 
annoyance  in  face  of  her  joy. 

They  had  reached  the  road  below  and  the  mur- 
mured recitative  ceased,  a  clear  high  tenor  rising 
alone  in  the  refrain : 

"  Climb,  climb,  climb  highest  mountin, 

Sailin'  up  in  a  balloon, 
All  about  among  de  starlight, 
All  around  de  silver  moon." 

They  had  reached  the  top,  and  the  voices  dropped  into 
titters,  broken  now  and  then  by  a  shriller  note.  They 
passed  on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  respecting  the 
balcony,  and  came  out  at  the  back.  A  broad  shaft  of 
light  from  the  opened  door  fell  on  them,  and  Dinah's 
high  laugh  came  in  welcome,  amid  a  hubbub  of  voices. 

"Fo'  de  Lord's  sake,  so  you  is  come!"  There 
were  scraps  of  greeting.  "Mr.  Johnsing,  I  certainly 
am  glad  to  meet  yo'.  How  is  yo'  likin'  dis  part  of  de 
country?"  and,  "Sally,  I  reckon  yo'  bref  ain't  come 
back  yet.  Sam,  git  out  de  mats — et's  mighty  col' 
on  de  groun'." 

"Leo,  let's  sit  over  here  where  we  can  see,"  whis- 
pered Janet.  There  was  a  big  chair  at  the  corner  of 
the  porch,  and  she  perched  herself  on  one  of  the  arms, 
but  Varek  sat  down  and  drew  her  over  on  his  knee. 
"Now,"  he  said,  "amuse  yourself.  I  am  satisfied." 

170 


The  Balcony 

She  shrugged  impatiently,  but  her  interest  was  be- 
low. The  group  sat  half  in,  half  out,  of  the  band  of 
light,  and  a  dark  figure  moved  about  behind  them. 
Presently  there  twisted  up  in  the  moonlight  a  spiral 
of  smoke,  followed  by  a  darting  tongue  of  flame. 

"I  knew  it!"  said  Janet,  clasping  and  lifting  her 
hands  in  a  little  gesture  Varek  loved,  "it's  a  bonfire !" 
A  chorus  of  joy  caught  up  the  scattered  voices  swing- 
ing into  rhythm : 

"  I  took  ma  gal  to  a  ball  one  night, 

It  was  a  social  hop; 
We  danced  all  night,  till  bro'd  daylight; 

The  music  then  did  stop. 
I  took  her  to  a  res-ter-rant, 

De  finest  on  de  street; 
She   said   she  was  n't  hungry, 

But  dis  am  what  she  eat 

Climb,  climb,  climb  de  highes'  mountin, 

Saijin'  up  in  a  balloon,  a  balloon, 
All  around  among  de  starlight, 
All  about  de  silver  moon." 

"Ya,  ha!"  laughed  the  women,  shrilly,  but  the 
clear  tenor  fell  into  another  note — a  moaning  refrain 
— the  banjo  joining  softly : 

A-hung,    a-hung, 
'  I  say  Miss  Mousey,  is  you  within  ? ' 

A-hung,  a-hung! 
'  Lift  de  latch  an'  do  come  in,' 

A-hung,  a-hung!  " 
171 


The  Winning  Chance 

Then  all  the  group  swung  in  more  loudly : 

"•He  took  Miss  Mousey  on  his  knee, 

A-hung,  a-hung! 

He  took  Miss  Mousey  on  his  knee, 
'  I  say,  Missy  Mouse,  will  yo'  marry  me?' 
A-hung,  a-hung!  " 

The  fire  blazed  high  and  danced  redly  on  the 
group,  touching  here  a  black  mask  in  which  the  whites 
of  the  eyes  showed  oddly,  and  there  a  grinning  mouth. 
There  was  the  guttural  note  of  the  savage  and  the  high 
shrill  call  of  his  mate.  It  needed  only  the  naked 
man  and  the  woman  with  her  straw  apron,  and  it 
might  have  been  Central  Africa. 

The  banjo  never  stopped  its  insistent  twang,  grad- 
ually turning  into  a  measure  that  jerked  at  the 
muscles.  "Ah,"  said  Janet,  "now!"  She  bent  over 
with  parted  lips.  The  group  stirred,  some  rising,  and 
a  woman's  voice  rang  out  clear,  "Yah,  ha."  They 
turned  about,  beating  time  with  hands  and  feet.  A 
big  turbaned  woman  sprang  up  in  their  midst,  and 
they  parted  to  either  side,  leaving  her  in  the  firelight. 
She  caught  up  her  skirts  and  stepped  in  time  to  the 
music,  as  light  as  a  feather.  Janet  was  up  too,  her 
body  swaying  in  rhythm  with  them,  her  hands  beating 
time.  " Dinah,  oh,  Dinah !"  she  called,  clearly.  "Yah, 
ha!"  the  woman  called  back,  and  another,  and  an- 
other, joined  and  swayed  with  her,  back  and  forth, 
back  and  forth. 

172 


The  Balcony 

Varek  gazed  at  the  girl  before  him  absolutely  fas- 
cinated. She  had  tossed  her  hair  back  from  her  brow, 
and  her  great  eyes  danced  and  gleamed.  A  dark  spot 
showed  on  each  cheek,  and  her  lip  lifted  over  her  white 
teeth.  The  repression  of  months  was  cast  to  the 
winds ;  the  primitive  woman  he  had  searched  for  in  her 
stood  revealed. 

The  insistent  twang  and  beat  stopped  dead;  the 
fire  dropped  to  a  glow;  a  cloud  swept  over  the  face 
of  the  moon,  and  in  the  warm  darkness  Varek 's  arms 
went  round  her.  "To  be  like  that,  and  not  to  care!" 
she  was  whispering,  and  his  voice  answered  in  her  ear, 
"Why  not?  There  are  just  you  and  I  in  all  this 
world — little  one!" 


V. 

OLD  HEDRICK'S  MISSION 

JANET  drew  the  fur  closer  about  her  throat  as  she 
slowly  descended  the  flight  of  steps  that  led  to  her 
aerie.  A  stout,  red-faced  coachman  was  turning  his 
horses  with  a  practised  hand  so  as  to  bring  the  step  of 
the  coupe  as  close  as  possible  to  the  last  step  of  the 
flight.  A  furious  thunder-storm  the  night  before  had 
put  a  sudden  end  to  the  four  unnaturally  warm  days, 
and  the  wind  that  swept  up  from  the  river  was  cold. 

The  man  jumped  down  and  held  the  door  for  her, 
touching  his  hat  to  her  as  he  did  so.  ' '  Good-morning, 
Denison,"  she  said,  in  her  low  voice.  "Will  you 
please  take  me  to  the  west  entrance  of  Carr's,  and 
you  can  either  drive  about  or  wait  as  you  like,  but  I 
shall  not  need  you  for  two  hours  at  least." 

"Yes,  Miss." 

Janet  got  in  and  Denison  put  the  warm  robe  about 
her  knees.  She  was  heavily  veiled  as  usual,  and  the 
man  could  hardly  see  her  features,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  that  her  voice  was  particularly  lifeless.  He  had 
never  climbed  those  steps,  or  driven  her  in  any  other 
way  but  quite  alone,  or  with  her  mother,  but  he  was  a 
man  of  much  experience  in  the  ways  of  the  city,  and 
he  had  his  surmises.  Varek's  injunctions  were  posi- 

174 


Old  Hedrick's  Mission 

tive  and  betokened  strong  interest.  He  was  to  guard 
the  lady  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  the  horses  Varek 
turned  over  to  him  were  picked  for  their  good  quali- 
ties. He  never  touched  liquor,  and  had  a  thorough 
respect  for  his  monthly  wage,  and  Varek  trusted  his 
treasure  to  him.  He  kept  a  close  tongue,  but  there 
was  no  embargo  on  his  thoughts. 

As  he  was  about  to  close  the  door,  Janet  held  it  a 
moment.  "Your  little  girl,  Denison,  is  she  better?" 

»"Yes,  Miss,  thank  you,"  said  the  man  with  a 
grateful  look.  "She's  been  better,  Miss,  every  day 
since  those  flowers.  My  wife  says  you  cured  her." 

He  climbed  to  his  seat,  but  Varek 's  commands  as 
to  careful  driving  were  not  needed.  Janet  had  won 
him  as  she  did  most  who  knew  her.  She  had  noticed 
his  face  one  day,  and  learned  from  him  that  his  only 
little  girl  was  desperately  ill.  She  had  thrown  back 
her  veil  and  listened  to  his  few  broken  words  with 
sympathy  in  her  great  eyes,  and  then  she  was  off 
and  up  the  steps  like  a  bird.  When  she  came  back 
her  arms  were  full  of  flowers,  orchids  and  great, 
creamy  pink  roses.  "Take  them  to  her,"  she  said, 
breathless.  "Go  right  back.  You  shan't  leave  her 
till  she  is  better."  He  would  like  to  meet  the  man 
who  would  guide  those  two  grays  more  carefully  than 
he;  he  knew  a  good  woman  and  a  lady  when  he  saw 
one,  let  appearances  be  what  they  might. 

They  went  north  and  city-wards  on  Broadway,  past 
175 


The  Winning  Chance 

the  old  houses  on  the  bluffs.  Save  for  one  or  two 
families,  nobody  knew  who  lived  in  those  old  houses 
any  more.  Several  were  vacant.  The  fashionable  of 
a  city  have  strange  tastes  as  to  location,  and  they  flock 
like  sheep  after  a  leader.  They  built  their  mansions 
in  flat  places  and  cinder-filled  holes,  and  gazed  com- 
placently on  each  other's  stone  fronts,  while  beauty 
and  seclusion  lay  close  at  hand. 

Janet  was  not  giving  attention  to  her  surroundings, 
however.  Her  thoughts  were  turned  inwards,  busied 
with  herself.  She  was  passing  the  last  two  months 
over  in  retrospect,  and  she  felt  an  actual  physical 
nausea.  It  had  come  to  the  final  decision,  whether 
she  could  better  endure  her  mother's  sufferings  and 
Paul 's  ruin,  or  her  own,  and  she  had  chosen ;  she  had 
not  expected  to  see  her  mother  happy  and  Paul  cared 
for  at  any  small  price  to  herself,  but  the  desolation 
within  her  was  beyond  anything  she  could  have 
imagined.  Janet  was  one  of  those  who  in  adverse 
circumstances  can  turn  within  for  comfort.  Her 
thoughts  had  always  been  normal,  and  her  spirit 
bright.  She  never  could  have  passed  through  those 
months  of  bitter  poverty,  had  she  not  had  a  well- 
spring  of  self-respect,  and  a  trust  in  her  own  clean 
nature.  But  she  had  been  swept  by  a  storm  that  left 
her  rudderless.  She  had  known  how  others  would 
look  upon  her,  but  she  had  not  realized  how  she  would 
look  upon  herself.  That  came  afterwards.  She  could 

176 


Old  Hedrick's  Mission 

no  longer  turn  her  thoughts  inward;  they  were  met 
by  a  blank  wall  of  disgust. 

She  often  paused  in  her  restless  misery  to  wonder 
why  she  did  not  bitterly  hate  the  man  who  had  made 
it  all  possible,  but  the  answer  was  sufficient  to  her 
reason.  It  was  because  she  could  see  his  point  of  view 
so  clearly.  A  monumental  selfishness  and  an  absolute 
belief  in  his  right  to  take  her,  and  his  power  to  make 
her  happy  afterwards,  had  made  possible  what  he 
had  done.  He  had  acted  consistently  throughout,  and 
from  conviction.  She  could  not  for  a  moment  doubt 
the  sincerity  of  his  feeling  for  her;  she  was  appalled 
by  its  force  and  continued  appeal  to  her.  His 
strength,  and  his  type  of  intellect  oppressed  her,  but 
she  would  have  been  no  woman  had  she  failed  in  a 
way  to  respect  it.  What  had  appeared  to  her  the  most 
terrible  thing  possible,  was  to  him  an  incident  that 
could  be  largely  remedied.  He  had  forced  his  offer 
upon  her,  but  she  had  accepted.  It  was  she  who  had 
been  traitor  to  herself  and  done  violence  to  every  in- 
stinct she  possessed.  Her  standpoint  regarding  Varek 
was  extreme,  but  it  was  born  of  her  more  intimate 
knowledge  of  him  and  her  passionate  disgust  at 
herself. 

It  was  not  the  least  of  her  miseries  that  now  her 

mother's  society  pained  her.     She  had  built  a  wall 

of  deceit  between  them.    Nothing  but  Mrs.  Carew's 

perfect  joy  could  have  made  it  endurable.     Her  chil- 

12  177 


The  Winning  Chance 

dren  had  been  saved  from  ruin,  a  little  of  what  was 
rightfully  theirs  had  been  restored  to  them  through 
the  efforts  of  the  man  whom  Mrs.  Carew  regarded  as 
their  preserver.  She  acquiesced  entirely  in  his  ar- 
rangements for  their  respective  needs.  She  was 
an  invalid  and  required  constant  care,  which 
she  could  have  hourly  in  the  bright,  cheerful 
sanitarium  Varek  had  chosen  for  her.  Paul  must 
be  placed  where  he  could  have  the  best  of  treat- 
ment, but  Janet  would  have  to  do  something  toward 
her  own  living;  there  was  not  enough  for  them  all, 
Mrs.  Carew  understood,  but  the  position  he  found  for 
Janet,  as  companion  to  a  wealthy  friend,  who  was 
lonely  in  her  quiet  life,  promised  every  comfort  for 
her  daughter,  and  Janet  would  be  free  to  spend  every 
morning  with  her  mother.  It  made  little  difference 
to  Mrs.  Carew  where  she  was  herself,  provided  the 
best  was  being  done  for  her  children,  and  Varek  gave 
her  every  assurance.  He  had  saved  Janet  everything 
possible,  but  to  her  the  prevarications  seemed  endless. 
Her  loathing  of  it  all  would  drive  her  at  last  to  a 
worse  evil. 

From  her  first  knowledge  of  him,  Varek 's  deter- 
mined appeal  had  been  to  the  emotional  in  her.  It 
had  been  silent  in  the  beginning,  then  more  open  and 
accompanied  with  the  threat  that  she  could  not  escape 
him.  Even  when  this  appeal  had  been  reinforced  by 
his  growing  tenderness,  it  had  been  just  as  great, 

178 


Old  Hedrick's  Mission 

no  greater,  and  now  what  was  it  like  every  day? 
she  had  turned,  and  twisted,  and  evaded  in  vain. 
In  her  loneliness  and  isolation  from  herself  she 
had  moved  imperceptibly  nearer  and  considered  it. 
She  could  not  love  him,  though  she  had  no  definition 
for  what  the  word  meant  to  her.  It  simply  meant  the 
impossible  as  applied  to  him ;  he  did  not  touch  a  cord 
of  sympathy  in  her.  He  respected  her  now,  for  he 
had  not  seized  that  something  that  she  had  held  high 
out  of  his  reach;  but  if  she  flung  herself  at  his  feet 
as  he  sought  to  have  her  do,  he  would  in  time  trample 
on  her.  "If  she  can  only  learn  to  love  me,  she  will 
be  happier,"  Varek  argued.  This  she  could  not  do, 
she  did  not  know  why,  but  she  could  go  mad  for  mere 
emotion 's  sake.  Her  own  restless  misery  had  dragged 
it  forth;  outwardly  she  was  an  abandoned  woman, 
why  not  be  abandoned?  She  had  it  in  her  to  scream 
"yah,  ha,"  like  that  black  woman,  to  drink  the  cham- 
pagne he  put  to  her  lips — an  A  end  in  the  gutter,  like 
those  haggard  creatures  that  used  to  elbow  her  on  her 
evening  walks  homeward.  Still  like  the  drunkard 
she  would  have  had  her  moments  of  oblivion.  The 
truth  was  that  she  was  living  abnormally,  with  a  strain 
too  great  for  her  already  tortured  nerves,  and  nature 
was  avenging  itself  as  it  has  with  many  another 
unfortunate. 

The  last  few  days  had  brought  the  possibility 
closer,  and  she  was  turning  this  way  and  that  for 

179 


The  Winning  Chance 

relief.  If  she  could  only  bring  back  the  courage  that 
had  walked  with  her  during  all  those  cold  months  of 
trial,  she  might  rise  superior.  Hitherto  she  had  care- 
fully avoided  every  spot  that  had  known  her,  but  this 
morning  there  had  come  a  longing  to  go  again  over 
the  old  ground,  and  see  if  possibly  she  could  call  back 
the  Janet  she  used  to  know.  She  would  walk  the  same 
streets,  and  look  into  the  same  faces,  and  stand  in 
that  dirty,  high-ceilinged  hallway. 

When  they  reached  Carr's  Janet  passed  directly 
through  the  store  and  came  out  on  Sixth  Street. 
Then  going  on  as  far  as  the  corner  she  chose  the 
quieter  side  of  Olive  and  went  on  down  to  the  corner 
she  knew  so  well.  From  where  she  stood  she  could  see 
the  door  she  used  to  pass  through  daily,  and  she 
stopped  that  it  might  all  come  back  to  her.  It  seemed 
years  since  she  had  stood  there.  Then  she  turned  and 
very  slowly  walked  northward.  She  even  put  her  feet 
on  the  very  spots  in  the  pavement  that  she  remem- 
bered. Two  blocks  further  along  she  turned  up  to 
Broadway,  and  kept  on,  still  northward.  She  passed 
the  market  and  close  by  the  stall  where  she  used  to 
stop  for  some  trifle  for  their  supper.  The  German 
woman  she  always  had  a  word  with  on  these  occasions, 
looked  directly  at  her,  but  she  did  not  know  her  in 
her  tailored  gown  and  heavy  veil. 

The  past  was  more  distinct,  but  it  did  not  shut  out 
the  present  one  iota.  A  dull  depression  settled  upon 

180 


Old  Hedrick's  Mission 

her,  and  heavy  weights  hung  to  her  feet ;  she  dragged 
along.  In  all  those  weary  months,  she  had  never 
walked  so  heavily;  her  body  seemed  dead  and  her 
spirit  numb.  What  was  the  use? 

She  had  reached  old  Hedrick's  book-stall,  and  in- 
voluntarily she  stopped.  The  old  man  was  bending 
over  his  bit  of  fire,  exactly  as  he  was  that  night  three 
months  ago,  and  he  raised  his  gray,  lined  face  and  saw 
her.  He  looked  blankly  at  her  at  first,  and  then  his 
eyes  lightened  a  little  and  he  beckoned  her  in.  "So 
you  have  come  at  last,"  he  said. 

The  girl  made  him  no  answer,  she  scarcely  heard 
him.  She  was  conscious  of  wanting  to  sit  down,  and 
mechanically  took  the  seat  he  offered  her.  In  the 
same  mechanical  way  she  noticed  that  he  moved 
stiffly.  He  was  more  bent  and  very  gray,  and  when 
she  raised  her  veil  she  saw  the  same  film  in  his  eyes 
that  one  sees  in  the  eyes  of  a  very  old  dog. 

He  looked  long  and  silently  at  her,  and  as  he 
had  said  three  months  before,  so  he  said  now,  but 
as  if  to  himself,  ' '  You  look  nearly  done. ' ' 

He  had  thought  about  her  even  during  his  long 
illness  at  the  hospital.  The  big  man  who  stopped 
at  his  stall  not  ten  minutes  after  the  girl  had  gone 
that  night,  and  had  fallen  into  talk  with  him,  had 
asked  him  if  he  knew  anything  about  her,  and  he 
had  called  her  Janet  Carew.  Carew!  old  Hedrick's 
face  had  shown  his  interest.  The  story  of  Denis 

181 


The  Winning  Chance 

Carew  had  followed.  The  old  man  could  describe 
graphically  enough  to  Varek  the  latter  part  of  Mr. 
Carew 's  downward  course.  "He  just  lost  hold  on 
his  soul,"  Hedrick  said,  and  Varek,  who  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  old  man's  one  controlling  idea,  had  absent- 
mindedly  acquiesced.  The  thing  that  Varek  had  been 
groping  for  for  weeks  had  come  into  his  hand  and  his 
mind  was  busy  over  it. 

He  had  offered  the  old  man  assistance.  "This  is 
no  place  for  you,"  he  said.  "You  might  as  well  be 
out  of  doors." 

"Ill  not  leave  it  till  I  go  for  good,"  Hedrick 
replied;  "but  if  you  want  to  give,  I'll  take  it,  for 
there  are  those  it  will  save." 

Varek  had  humored  him,  and  when  the  old  man 
had  succumbed  to  the  bitter  weather,  he  had  him  taken 
to  the  hospital.  But  first  he  promised  to  keep  his 
stall  intact  for  him,  and  back  to  it  he  had  crept  as 
soon  as  he  was  able.  His  span  of  life  was  nearly  done 
and  connected  thought  was  difficult. 

He  bent  forward  now,  his  dim  eyes  searching 
Janet's  face.  "You  are  losing  hold  on  your  soul," 
he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "You  are  letting  it  go  fast." 

If  he  had  said  any  ordinary  thing,  she  might  not 
have  answered,  or  if  she  had  it  would  have  been 
as  mechanically  as  she  had  taken  his  seat.  But  they 
were  the  very  words  that  had  been  forming  in  her 
mind  for  days,  and  it  scarcely  even  surprised  her. 

182 


Old  Hedrick's  Mission 

Her  eyes  widened.  "Yes,"  she  said,  clearly,  "I 
am." 

' '  I  knew  it, ' '  he  answered,  with  profound  earnest- 
ness. "I  know  the  look.  Haven't  I  seen  it — often 
and  often?  I  have  sat  where  you  sit,  and  I  have 
looked  out  and  seen  it  on  the  faces  that  have  passed 
back  and  forth.  Sometimes  they  stop  and  lift  those 
yellow  backed  books  out  there,  and  then  I  go  out 
and  we  talk,  and  little  by  little  they  will  tell  me — 
men  and  women.  They  have  come  in  here  and  sat 
where  you  sit  and  I  have  told  them  what  it  was  they 
were  letting  go,  and  they  have  said,  'But  I  have  done 
this  and  that — we  have  left  undone  those  things  which 
we  ought  to  have  done,  and  we  have  done  those  things 
which  we  ought  not  to  have  done,  and  there  is  no 
health  in  us.'  And  I  say  it  is  not  true."  The  old 
man's  back  straightened,  and  his  dim  eyes  lost  their 
film  and  flashed.  "No,  it  is  not  true!  The  health 
is  there  if  they  would  but  look  for  it.  Who  shall 
say,  'This  man  is  damned,' — and  what  right  have 
I  to  say  of  myself,  'I  am  damned'?" 

Janet  bent  forward,  her  hands  held  in  her  lap. 
"Yes,  but  it  is  there — in  you,"  she  said,  "your  loath- 
ing of  yourself  and  your  life,  and  there  is  no  way  but 
to  forget.' 

The  old  man's  face  worked  passionately.  "Aye !" 
he  said,  "that's  it  always,  'to  forget,  to  forget'.  It's 
that  makes  more  sin  than  anything  else. ' '  He  struck 
one  shrivelled  hand  on  the  other.  "And  I  say  to 

183 


The  Winning  Chance 

you,  remember — remember  always,  and  look  up! 
Look  forward  and  not  back,  and  hold  fast  to  your 
soul." 

"There  is  no  forward,"  said  the  girl.  "There 
can  be  no  change.  What  I  have  done  I  must  abide 
by." 

The  old  man  was  silent  looking  at  her.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  were  for  the  first  time  taking  a  personal  view 
of  the  trouble  in  her  face.  In  a  disjointed  way  cir- 
cumstances came  back  to  him.  She  had  been  poor; 
she  looked  affluent.  With  the  signs  of  plenty  upon 
her,  she  wore  a  look  of  tragedy.  He  could  not  re- 
member anything  for  long  at  a  time,  but  he  did  re- 
member the  man  who  had  followed  after  her,  yes,  more 
than  once,  for  he  had  seen  him,  and  talked  with 
him  too.  In  some  way  it  was  all  connected  with 
things  further  back  in  his  life,  but  he  could  not  put 
them  together.  He  knew  now  what  it  was  he  had 
thought  at  the  hospital,  and  it  was  this — did  the  man 
mean  well  by  her?  Evidently  he  had  not.  .  .  . 
It  was  all  confused  in  his  mind  again,  but  he  had  an 
impression  of  what  her  words  meant,  and  he  went 
back  to  his  idea. 

"It  is  done  then — it  cannot  be  changed.  Is  that 
any  reason  for  despair?  Is  it  not  rather  to  say,  'I 
have  stepped  aside,  but  it  shall  not  sink  me  utterly.' 
To  gather  together  all  your  strength  to  go  forward? 
You  have  held  your  misery  close  to  you,  and  you  have 
turned  it  this  way,  and  that,  and  brooded  over  it,  until 

184 


Old  Hedrick's  Mission 

it  has  grown  to  be  a  mountain.  Then  you  fling  your- 
self down  and  say,  'I  cannot  bear  it;  I  will  plunge 
deeper  and  forget. '  It  is  something  like  that  ?"  The 
girl's  lips  moved  without  sound,  and  he  went  on. 

"Has  it  never  occurred  to  you  that  there  are  num- 
bers of  people  near  you  who  have  had  as  great  a 
trouble  in  their  lives  as  yours,  only  they  may  have 
found  it  harder  to  bear.  Is  there  nothing  in  your  life 
that  you  can  turn  to  good?  Are  there  none  that  you 
could  comfort,  or  who  are  dependent  upon  you  for 
happiness?  Is  there  no  way  that  you  can  find  of 
holding  on  to  your  soul?"  He  had  come  back  to  his 
repetition.  His  chin  sank  on  his  breast  and  he  talked 
to  himself,  oblivious  of  her  presence. 

"You  sinned  for  the  sake  of  those  you  loved,  to 
give  them  the  joys  of  life,  and  you  paid  the  penalty. 
Still  through  all  those  years  you  did  net  faint.  You 
said, '  I  will  go  back  to  them,  I  acted  in  ignorance  and 
out  of  my  love,  but  they  will  understand. '  But  they 
cast  you  out  utterly.  Then  you  wandered  desolate, 
and  you  said,  '  This  I  cannot  bear, '  and  you  sank  your 
soul  deep  under  crime,  and  again  you  paid  the  long 
penalty.  You  grovelled  and  howled  like  a  beast,  and 
the  spark  almost  died  out  within  you — but  not  quite. 
It  lies  in  every  human  being  even  to  the  end — in  some 
near  at  hand,  in  others  all  but  out  of  reach.  Painfully 
you  fanned  it  back  into  life  again,  and  it  was  a  long 
and  weary  time,  and  you  came  out  of  the  struggle 

185 


The  Winning  Chance 

an  old  man,  but  you  never  let  it  go,  and  when  you 
have  seen  that  spark  all  but  dead  in  another  you 
have  longed  to  fan  it  back  into  flame  and  give  it  its 
chance  to  win.  .  .  .  Sin  and  suffering  and  wrong, 
— they  are  as  old  as  the  world,  and  they  seem  to  sit 
upon  us  mountain  high,  but  it's  there  still,  underneath 
it  all,  that  vital  thing,  and  whether  we  struggle  man- 
fully, or  like  a  little  ignorant  child,  blunder  into  mis- 
takes, the  thing  that  counts  is  that  we  do  struggle, 
struggle  to  the  limit  of  our  power  to  give  that  spark 

the  winning  chance "     The  old  man  sank  into 

silence,  his  head  bent  lower,  his  hands  relaxed  on  his 
knees.  The  girl  before  him  had  not  moved,  but  the 
disjointed  monologue  had  stirred  her  powerfully;  it 
made  far  more  impression  on  the  emotional  chaos  in 
which  she  was  moving  than  any  calm  argument. 

Suddenly  old  Hedrick  started  and  leaning  forward 
touched  her  knee,  the  wandering  look  fading  from  his 
face.  Perhaps  in  following  down  his  own  life  he  had 
struck  upon  a  recollection.  "I  know  now,"  he  said 
more  collectedly,  "you.  are  Denis  Carew's  daughter. 
It  was  of  your  father  I  wanted  to  tell  you — I  knew 
him  well  at  the  end.  Yes — now  listen  to  me,  Denis 

Carew's  daughter "  and  he  told  her  every  detail 

of  those  months  of  degradation;  he  drew  the  picture 
in  all  its  pitiful  reality,  and  in  the  language  of  one 
who  is  used  to  convince.  The  things  that  Varek  had 
given  emphasis  to,  he  hardly  touched  upon ;  the  name 

186 


Old  Hedrick's  Mission 

of  the  man  who  had  ruined  Carew,  had  gone  entirely 
from  his  mind.  Old  Hedrick  had  no  thoughts  of 
lands  or  spoils,  he  was  fighting  for  something  far 
different,  and  he  brought  every  faculty  of  his  fast- 
failing  mind  to  bear  upon  it.  He  saw  the  lines  in  the 
face  before  him  change,  and  the  eyes  fill  with  new 
meaning ;  he  was  hoarse  and  spent,  but  he  went  on  to 
the  end.  "He  just  lost  hold  on  his  soul,"  he  whis- 
pered. "Will  you  lose  hold  on  yours,  Janet  Carew?" 

"No!"  cried  the  girl.  "No!"  There  was  a  pain 
in  her  throat  that  smothered  her,  and  the  burning  tears 
welled  up  in  her.  She  flung  her  head  down  on  the 
ragged  arm  of  the  old  chair  and  sobbed  aloud — "No! 
No!"  over  and  over  again.  The  emotions  that  had 
tossed  her  hither  and  thither  during  all  those  wretched 
weeks  must  have  an  outlet.  The  old  man  had  sunk 
back,  his  hands  hanging  limp  by  his  side. 

How  long  it  was  before  she  moaned  herself  back 
into  silence  Janet  never  knew,  but  there  is  an  end 
even  to  tears,  and  she  dragged  herself  slowly  up  and 
looked  about  her ;  the  dusty  piles  of  books,  the  narrow 
passage,  framing  the  bit  of  bright  April  sunshine 
beyond,  and  the  still  figure  opposite.  She  sat  gasping 
and  waiting  for  him  to  move,  but  there  was  no  sign, 
and  a  terror  at  his  stillness  struck  her.  She  got  to  her 
feet  and  lifted  one  limp  hand,  but  it  dropped  back 
heavily ;  then  passing  her  arm  beneath  him  she  raised 
his  head  and  saw  his  face,  and  she  knew. 

187 


VI. 

THE  METHODS  OF  DENIS 

"  DINIS,  if  ye  don't  stand  still  wan  minute,"  de- 
clared Lizzie,  "I'm  thinkin'  it's  th'  sittin'  down  place 
iv  ye  th'  back  iv  this  brush  will  find." 

"But,  mither,  the  horses  will  rin  away  without 
me,"  pleaded  Denis,  the  muscles  of  his  stocky  little 
legs  jerking  in  spite  of  him.  The  brushing  of  shoes 
was  to  Denis  an  entirely  unnecessary  operation. 

"They'll  not  rin  away  without  Miss  Jannie,"  said 
his  mother,  applying  the  right  side  of  the  brush  with 
a  vigor  that  made  his  little  toes  tingle. 

"Is  he  holding  them  tight,  Miss  Jannie?"  he 
queried,  anxiously. 

Janet  was  sitting  on  a  low  chair,  holding  a  bundle 
on  her  lap,  to  which  she  had  been  giving  much  smiling 
attention.  She  had  a  long-stemmed  rose  in  her  hand 
which  she  was  cautiously  applying  to  the  indetermi- 
nate nose  of  the  bundle,  and  when  two  small  fists 
waved  and  clutched  ineffectually,  she  laughed  to  her- 
self. She  repeated  the  manoeuvre  as  she  answered 
the  little  boy,  "Yes,  as  tight  as  can  be." 

"An'  if  they  did  rin  away,"  pursued  the  imagina- 
tive Denis,  "they'd  bump  him  out,  wouldn't  they,  and 

188 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

rin  right  over  his  stummick  an'  chop  him  in  two? 
Mither,  you've  done  enough!" 

"Ach,  go  'long  wid  ye!"  said  his  mother.  "I 
might  as  well  thry  to  hold  an  eel." 

Denis  made  a  dive  for  the  door,  but  collided  with  a 
colored  woman  who  was  just  entering,  and  perceiving 
another  subject  of  interest,  paused  to  take  note. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  McGinniss,"  said  the  in- 
truder, loftily.  "I  done  been  requested  to  fetch  you 
dese  surperses  from  de  chapel.  De  ladies  am  power- 
ful particular  how  dey  is  done  up,  an'  dey  reques- 
sioned  me  fo'  to  say,  dey  wouldn't  have  no  con- 
siderations f  o '  pore  work. ' '  The  tone  of  the  speaker 
intimated  that  in  her  own  mind  there  was  no  doubt 
as  to  the  ultimate  dissatisfaction  of  the  ladies,  and  her 
whole  being  breathed  the  correct  attitude  of  a  colored 
lady  brought  into  contact  with  Irish  trash. 

Lizzie  looked  for  a  moment  as  if  her  visitor  and  the 
surplices  might  suddenly  find  themselves  in  the  middle 
of  the  street,  but  caution  prevailed.  "Ye  can  set  thim 
down,"  she  said,  carelessly,  giving  the  woman  the 
benefit  of  her  back.  "Now,  mither's  daiiin',"  and  she 
took  the  bundle  from  Janet 's  arms. 

Denis  had  eyed  the  woman  thoughtfully  as  she 
proceeded  to  deposit  her  parcel,  and  as  usual  the  re- 
sult of  his  cogitations  found  instant  voice.  ' '  Mither, ' ' 
he  said,  "I  have  blackin'  on  my  shoes,  but  she's 
got  it  on  her  face." 

189 


The  Winning  Chance 

In  spite  of  inward  delight  Lizzie  was  severe. 
' '  Dinis,  do  ye  mind  what  I  telled  ye  a  minute  ago ! ' ' 
she  said  sharply,  but  as  her  visitor  swept  out  with  a 
rolling  eye  on  Denis,  who  followed  at  a  safe  distance, 
Lizzie  whispered  to  Janet,  "Did  ye  iver  hear  th' 
loike!" 

' '  He  didn  't  mean  to  hurt  her  feelings, ' '  said  Janet. 

"No,"  said  Lizzie,  positively,  "iv  course  an'  he 
didn't;  but  what  I  am  to  do  wid  him  I  can't  tell! 
He  lost  me  a  washin'  jest  last  week.  A  grand  car- 
riage drove  up,  an '  out  stepped  th '  fattest  woman  I  Ve 
set  me  eyes  on  since  I  left  Conalty.  I  had  th'  chairs 
in  place  an'  me  white  apron  on  in  two  minutes,  an'  I 
wint  to  th'  door.  'Is  this  Lizzie  McGinniss?'  says 
she,  high  loike.  'That's  me  own  silf,  ma'm,'  says  I 
bowin',  'an'  will  ye  plase  to  come  in,  thin?' 

"I  hadn't  th'  chair  that  would  hould  her  comfor- 
table, but  she  took  that  wan  and  looked  at  iverythin', 
mesilf  included.  'I  wish  to  have  me  washin'  done,' 
says  she,  'an'  it's  me  custom  to  see  where  it  goes.  I 
have  a  great  horror  of  germs,  an'  th'  Irish,  as  ye  must 
know  yersilf ,  Mrs.  McGinniss,  are  not  always  cleanly. 
This  is  not  at  all  bad,  not  at  all,'  says  she,  sniffin'  an' 
lookin'. 

"I  felt  mesilf  overwhelmed  wid  satisfacthun,  but 
I  wasn't  expressin'  mesilf  jest  thin.  'Do  you  iver  use 
bleachin'  matter  in  your  wash  water?'  she  says. 

"If  ye 're  meanin'  soap  by  that,'  says  I,  'I'm  in  th' 
habit  iv  usin'  it  a-plenty.' 

190 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

' '  '  Oh,  no ! '  says  she,  '  I  refer  to  delertrerious  sub- 
stances. ' 

"Whin  her  mind  was  rested  on  that  point,  she  in- 
quired if  I  dried  me  clothes  in  th'  sun,  an'  she  hoped 
I  did  not  kape  thim  overnight  in  me  bedroom.  Thin 
she  handed  me  her  card.  'I  am  Mrs.  Jules-Clarke,' 
says  she,  as  if  I  couldn't  use  me  own  eyes,  'an'  I  shall 
send  me  clothes  on  Monday.' 

"Now  I'm  not  tellin'  ye  this  to  excuse  Dims,  Miss 
Jannie,  but  I  'm  jest  conf essin '  that  th '  very  idea  had 
entered  me  own  head — her  eyes  was  so  small  wid  white 
eye- winkers,  an'  her  neck  rollin'  over  her  collar. 
Dinis  was  sittin'  where  ye  be,  an'  he'd  niver  moved 
his  eyes  from  her,  an'  out  it  come. 

"  'Are  ye  like  Blinky  whin  you  takes  yer  clothes 
off?'  says  he.  Miss  Jannie,  I  couldn't  move. 

11  'Who  is  Blinky?'  says  she  very  sharp,  an'  I 
couldn't  get  me  hands  on  him  in  time.  'It's  Mrs.  Ma- 
honey  's  pig, '  says  he ! 

"It's  jest  nadeless  to  tell  ye,  Miss  Jannie,  that  that 
washin '  niver  come  on  Monday. ' ' 

"Poor  Lizzie!"  said  Janet,  laughing  until  she 
choked  with  coughing,  "but  just  the  same  I  believe 
you  love  Denis  a  little  better  than  the  others." 

"Well,  ye  see,  it's  jest  his  inquirin'  mind.  He's 
what  ye  call  a  genius,"  said  Lizzie,  "that's  it,"  but 
she  watched  Janet  anxiously  as  she  struggled  for 
breath.  ' '  I  wish  ye  would  get  through  wid  that  cold, 
me  darlin'." 

191 


The  Winning  Chance 

"How  can  any  one  get  well  of  anything  in  such 
weather?"  retorted  the  girl  in  a  tone  of  irritation 
that  Lizzie  had  never  heard  from  her  before.  "It 
makes  one  feel  like  fainting  all  day  long,  and  at  night 
it's  worse  yet.  It  was  ninety-two  in  my  room  at  mid- 
night last  night ;  the  bed  was  like  fire  and  I  coughed 
every  other  minute.  It's  just  July,  and  two  more 
months  of  it!" 

"You're  sick,"  said  Lizzie.  "I've  known  it  for 
weeks,  me  Lady-Bird,  an'  instid  iv  takin'  thim  three 
childher  to  th'  park,  it's  in  yer  bed  ye  ought  to  be." 

"And  burning  up,"  answered  Janet,  lightly.  "I 
prefer  to  move  about. ' ' 

"Have  ye  looked  in  th'  glass,  an'  seen  how  thin 
ye  be?"  urged  Lizzie. 

"Yes,  I'm  growing  as  light  as  a  fairy.  Denis  will 
never  accuse  me  of  looking  like  Blinky. ' ' 

"Can't  ye  go  away  a  while  where  it's  cooler?" 
Lizzie  persisted.  "Go  wid  yer  mither,  darlin' — it's 
none  too  well  she's  lookin'  hersilf. " 

"Lizzie,  you  don't  think  mother  is  worse?"  The 
girl's  light  manner  was  gone  in  an  instant. 

"No,  no,"  said  Lizzie,  quickly.  "She  looks  a  way 
better  thin  ye  do  this  minute,  but  th'  heat  tires  her, 
an '  f er  ye  it 's  fair  murther. ' ' 

"There's  no  way  I  can  go,"  Janet  replied,  wearily, 
her  eyes  on  the  floor.  "It's  out  of  the  question." 

Lizzie  looked  at  her  in  puzzled  sympathy.     From 

192 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

the  first  Janet's  change  of  fortune  had  appeared  to 
Lizzie  to  bring  her  no  real  joy.  What  was  the  good 
of  their  coming  upon  some  of  Mr.  Carew's  money  if 
her  darling  was  going  to  wear  a  face  like  that  ?  Dur- 
ing the  first  weeks  she  had  seen  Janet  rarely.  There 
was  the  baby,  and  their  change  to  other  and  so  much 
better  quarters;  Patrick's  increased  wages  and  the 
comfort  of  their  neat  little  house — all  had  taken  Liz- 
zie's attention,  but  of  late  she  had  had  time  and 
opportunity  to  think  of  the  girl,  and  she  felt  very 
anxious.  Eyes  less  keen  than  hers  could  readily  see 
that  Janet  was  not  happy,  and  ill  as  well.  Lizzie 
wondered  in  vain  why. 

After  the  warm  weather  came  Janet  was  often  with 
her.  The  girl  had  taken  a  great  interest  in  some  of 
the  more  unfortunate  people  in  the  neighborhood  in 
which  they  used  to  live,  and  Lizzie  frequently  went 
with  her  to  visit  them.  The  woman  would  listen 
amazed  at  the  simple  understanding  the  girl  seemed 
to  have  of  their  wants.  She  had  money  with  her  to 
help  them,  but  Lizzie  used  to  think  as  she  listened  to 
some  woman  pouring  out  her  dreary  story  to  Janet, 
that  it  was  much  more  the  look  in  her  face  that  drew 
them.  They  were  not  stories  for  a  girl,  many  of 
them,  and  Lizzie  thoroughly  disapproved.  If  her  pet 
had  money  and  was  among  friends,  why  wasn't  she 
enjoying  herself  like  other  girls  of  her  age?  "She's 
had  it  hard  so  long  she  can't  take  her  mind  from  it," 
13  193 


The  Winning  Chance 

she  explained  to  herself,  but  she  was  not  satisfied. 
She  had  never  asked  about  Janet's  position,  or  about 
the  lady  whose  companion  she  was,  for  the  girl  had 
been  so  reticent ;  it  was  Mrs.  Carew  who  had  told  her 
all  she  knew,  and  Lizzie  had  concluded  finally  that 
the  trouble  lay  there. 

She  was  very  shy  of  questioning  her  betters,  but 
it  would  out.  "Are  ye  unhappy  where  ye  are,  me 
pretty  one?"  she  asked,  gently.  "Wisha  now,  can't 
ye  tell  the  wan  that  loves  ye  as  well  as  her  own?  It's 
lonesome  ye  are,  thin?" 

The  slowly  rising  color  dyed  Janet's  face  and  neck 
crimson,  but  she  answered  steadily  enough:  "Every- 
body's kind  to  me,  Lizzie  dear,  but  I  don't  feel  well 
often.  .  .  .  Think  of  mother  so  pleased,  and  Paul 
walking  about  and  every  one  with  plenty  to  eat  and 
drink!"  Janet  smiled  at  her,  her  color  fading. 
There  was  no  use  to  ask,  and  Lizzie  turned  to  another 
subject. 

"I  niver  in  me  life  heard  th'  loike  iv  Misther 
Paul,"  she  said.  "Ye  could  have  turned  me  over  wid 
a  straw,  whin  ye  telled  me  he'd  walked  by  himsilf 
out  iv  th'  hospital !  Does  he  loike  it  out  west,  thin?" 

Janet  shook  her  head  doubtfully.  "He  fought 
against  going,"  she  said,  "but  they  persuaded  him, 
and  they  would  only  give  him  money  if  he  went. 
We'll  just  have  to  hope  he  will  like  it." 

"It's  back  he'll  be  if  he  don't,"  returned  Lizzie. 
She  had  no  opinion  of  Paul. 

194 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

"There  won't  be  anything  given  him  to  come  back 
with,  until  they  see  how  he  gets  along.  There's  noth- 
ing to  do  but  just  wait  and  hope  with  Paul.  It's 
mother  that's  happiest  about  him,  and  we  must  never 
trouble  her  with  any  doubts,"  Janet  sighed.  "But, 
Lizzie,  let's  not  talk  about  it.  Give  me  my  baby  again 
— come, — the  children  will  be  back  in  a  moment  and 
we  will  have  to  go.  Lizzie,  I  think  she  is  going  to  be 
even  prettier  than  Mary." 

"An'  why  for  did  I  give  her  yer  name  thin ?  If  it 
had  been  a  boy,  I'd  have  called  him  Jammie,  an' 
expicted  him  to  be  a  pretty  wan  too,  an '  as  good.  Ye 
niver  saw  inything  like  it — she  jest  smiles  all  day  long, 
an'  is  as  quiet  as  quiet.  I  doubt  she'd  be  here  but 
for  ye,  Miss  Jannie,"  and  the  woman's  voice  shook  a 
little.  "If  ye  would  only  get  pink  cheeks,  an'  smile 
different  at  me  out  iv  yer  eyes,  I'm  thinkin'  th' 
wurruld  wouldn't  hould  me  for  joy." 

' '  Well,  we  11  see, ' '  said  Janet.  ' '  I  will  take  off  my 
hat  in  the  park  and  get  burnt  scarlet." 

"Don't  ye  be  so  foolish  now!"  exclaimed  Lizzie. 
"Ye '11  jest  be  givin'  yersilf  a  sthroke." 

"Mary  an'  Patty's  here !"  shouted  Denis,  plunging 
in,  and  there  followed  the  usual  hubbub,  to  which 
little  Larry,  waking  from  his  nap,  lent  his  lusty  voice. 

It  was  one  of  her  few  pleasures,  these  rides  she 
took  the  children,  and  the  most  congenial  thing  she 
found  to  do  in  the  daylight  hours  that  she  crowded 

195 


The  Winning  Chance 

as  full  as  they  would  hold.  Janet  had  found  that  to 
l)e  busy  every  moment  was  a  good  way  to  stop  think- 
ing, at  least  about  things  you  would  rather  not  think 
of,  and  daily  she  preferred  the  heat  and  a  hurry  from 
one  thing  to  another,  to  the  hammock  and  meditation. 
Her  mother  took  her  mornings  and  a  dozen  other 
things  the  afternoons,  and  Denison  saw  far  more 
of  her  than  Dinah  those  days.  In  the  late  afternoons 
when  she  began  to  climb  the  familiar  flight  of  stairs, 
it  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  never  reach  the  top, 
still  less  prepare  for  the  evening,  she  was  so  tired. 

Varek  had  noticed  a  great  change  in  her  since  old 
Hedrick's  death.  She  had  given  him  almost  no  par- 
ticulars, but  it  had  evidently  made  a  very  deep  im- 
pression on  her,  and  Varek  constantly  wondered  why 
it  could  have  worked  so  marked  a  change.  She  had 
declared  that  she  must  have  occupation,  and  she  had 
spoken  to  him  of  herself  and  her  position  more  plainly 
than  she  had  ever  done  before ;  she  was  far  more  nat- 
ural and  showed  a  real  interest  in  the  things  that  occu- 
pied his  attention,  often  astonishing  him  by  the 
clearness  of  her  insight.  He  brought  her  armfuls 
of  books  and  magazines,  and  in  their  talks  over  them 
he  was  surprised  anew  at  her  familiarity  with  good 
literature;  it  was  a  knowledge  gained  from  a  child- 
hood spent  in  a  library,  and  far  exceeded  his  o\m. 
Many  of  her  references  were  Greek  to  him,  but  he 
hastened  to  repair  his  ignorance.  He  began  to  see 

196 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

her  in  a  different  guise,  but  one  no  less  lovable.  It 
was  as  if  she  were  timidly  offering  him  her  compan- 
ionship, and  Varek  seized  it  eagerly,  as  he  did  any- 
thing that  might  bring  them  nearer  to  each  other. 
Guardedly  at  first,  then  more  openly,  she  gave  him 
glimpses  into  a  nature  so  sweet  and  womanly  that  it 
rebuked  by  very  contrast  his  own  ugly  selfishness. 

He  began  to  have  a  vague  understanding  of  her 
patient  endeavor  to  place  their  relation  on  a  higher 
footing,  an  appeal  to  his  intelligence,  that  was  silent 
but  effective.  To  his  surprised  eyes  there  were  open- 
ing vistas  that  he  had  never  dreamed  existed,  and 
possibilities  that  marked  entirely  new  departures  for 
him.  He  clung  tenaciously  to  the  ideals  that  had 
always  guided  him,  his  faith  in  them  had  been  abso- 
lute, but  Yarek  in  his  own  mind  made  a  tremendous 
concession  when  he  granted  that  such  a  thing  as  an- 
other standpoint  existed  for  him.  There  was  growing 
in  him  the  possibility  of  placing  the  interests  of  an- 
other before  his  own,  and  he  watched  Janet's  thin 
cheek  and  weary  eyes  with  an  anxiety  that  was  grow- 
ing into  a  positive  torment. 

Janet  had  directed  Denison  that  afternoon  to  the 
quietest  part  of  tiie  park  and  here  they  got  out,  Deni- 
son seeking  a  shady  spot  in  the  road  for  his  horses 
and  himself.  She  found  a  convenient  tree,  and  sat 
leaning  against  it,  while  the  children  roamed  about, 

197 


The  Winning  Chance 

bringing  their  treasures  back  to  her.  There  were  few 
wild  flowers  except  daisies,  and  Janet  suggested  that 
they  make  wreaths.  Denis  declined  occupation,  but 
watched  the  others  very  contentedly.  "Miss  Jannie'll 
make  mine,  won't  ye,  Miss  Jannie?"  he  said,  rubbing 
his  red  head  against  her  arm. 

"Wish't  I  could  find  a  bird's  nest,"  said  Patty. 
"I  wish  it  had  six  eggs  in  it.  Miss  Jannie,  did  you 
ever  see  a  hummin'  bird's  nest?" 

"Yes,"  said  Janet,  in  happy  recollection. 
"They're  dear  little  things,  Patty.  There  was  one 
in  the  big  locust  tree  at  home;  the  eggs  are  wee  bits 
of  white  things." 

"Does  the  hummin'  birds  sit  on  them?"  asked 
Denis. 

' '  Why,  of  course, ' '  said  Janet.  ' '  How  would  they 
hatch  if  they  didn't?" 

"If  hummin'  birds  sat  on  chicken's  eggs  would 
they  hatch?"  he  asked.  Patty  gave  a  snort,  but 
Mary,  the  practical,  said,  "Hummin'  birds  is  little; 
they're  littler  than  jest  one  chicken's  egg.  Ain't 
they  now?" 

"A  good  deal,"  said  Janet. 

"But,  Miss  Jannie,"  Denis  persisted  earnestly, 
"if  I  sitted  on  hummin'  bird's  eggs,  wouldn't  they 
hatch  either?" 

Patty  and  Mary  both  laughed,  and  Denis's  long 
upper  lip  lengthened  perceptibly,  but  Janet  put  her 

198 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

arm  around  him.  "Why  do  you  want  to  know, 
Dennie?"  she  asked.  Denis  only  sighed,  and  Patty 
snickered,  teasingly,  but  Mary  enlightened  her. 

"Dinis  wanted  to  hatch  chickens,"  she  explained. 
"Mrs.  Mahoney,  she  has  lots  an'  lots,  an'  he  ast 
mither,  an'  ast  her  for  eggs,  an'  she  didn't  have  none. 
Thin  Mrs.  Mahoney  gived  him  ten — I  seen  her  over 
the  fence,  but  they  was  ones  the  hens  had  sitted  on  an' 
they  wouldn  't  hatch  for  the  hens.  But  Mrs.  Mahoney, 
she  telled  Dinis  if  he  ud  cover  thim  up  warm,  maybe 
they  'd  hatch. ' '  Patty,  and  Denis  in  particular,  were 
listening  with  grave  interest  to  the  narrative. 

"Thin  Dinis  wint  off,  and  mither  thinked  that  he 
had  rinned  away,  an '  f  aither  corned  too,  an '  we  called, 
an'  called,  and  thin  f  aither  wint  into  the  shed,  an' 
in  the  corner  Dinis  sitted  as  quiet  as  quiet.  And 
thin  f  aither  made  him  get  up,  an'  he  was  jest  sittin' 
on  the  eggs  hisself,  an' " 

"An'  they  didn't  hatch,"  Denis  interrupted, 
gravely.  "They  jest  breaked." 

"They  done  busted  on  him,"  said  the  exact  Mary, 
with  a  disapproving  look,  "ivery  one  of  thim  did." 

Patty  wriggled  with  delight.  "An'  oh,  Miss  Jan- 
nie,  but  he  smelled  somethin'  awful!"  said  she,  "an' 
mither  undressed  him  in  the  yard,  and  hanged  out  his 
clothes,  but  it  stinked,  iverything  did,  all  around!" 

Denis 's  eyes,  nose  and  mouth  took  on  the  uncertain 
look  that  preceded  a  convulsion,  but  Janet  hugged  him 

199 


The  Winning  Chance 

up  close,  laughing  and  kissing  him  at  the  same  time, 
and  Denis  changed  his  mind  and  spoke.  "I  only 
wanted  some  little  chickies, ' '  he  said. 

"Of  course  you  did,  sweetheart,"  said  Janet,  "and 
you  shall  have  some  all  for  your  own." 

"Little  ones,  Miss  Jannie?"  Denis's  upturned 
nose  wrinkled  in  joy. 

Janet  had  a  vision  of  Lizzie's  face  should  a  brood 
of  helpless  chicks  be  imposed  upon  her.  "A  little 
rooster,  Dennie,"  she  said,  "and  two  little  hens  so 
high,  and  they  will  run  and  cackle. ' ' 

Denis  studied  her  doubtfully  a  moment,  for  he 
was  a  very  persistent  person,  but  then  a  light  broke 
upon  him,  "Would  they  lay  eggs?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Janet,  "lots  of  them." 

"Would  they  hatch  them  into  little  chickies,  Miss 
Jannie?" 

"Of  course  they  would." 

Denis  leaned  his  head  back  contentedly  against  her 
arm.  "You  can  bring  thim  to-night  thin,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

This  proved  an  interesting  topic  of  conversation, 
and  Janet's  knowledge  of  bantams  was  tested  to  the 
utmost,  but  the  slanting  sunlight  warned  them  that 
there  was  a  long  ride  homeward,  and  collecting  their 
wreaths,  they  made  for  the  road  and  Denison.  They 
climbed  up  a  bank  and  down  again,  and  stood  on  the 
edge  of  the  road  waiting  for  the  carriage,  which  was 

200 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

some  distance  away.  In  the  other  direction  the  road 
turned  sharply,  and  almost  without  warning  a  motor 
slipped  round  the  curve  and  passed  them.  Not  be- 
fore Janet  had  seen  the  occupant,  however,  and  he 
had  recognized  her.  It  was  Ehrenstein  in  all  the 
glory  of  the  most  up  to  date  motoring  costume.  The 
stop  and  wheeling  curve  that  he  executed,  not  without 
anxiety  to  himself,  was  masterly,  and  he  landed  so 
near  the  group  that  the  children  retreated  up  the 
bank  in  affright.  From  this  vantage  ground  they 
gazed  in  awe-struck  delight  at  the  panting  monster. 
Janet  would  most  gladly  have  been  somewhere  else, 
but  as  it  was  she  returned  Ehrenstein 's  greeting 
pleasantly. 

"Say,  but  you're  a  stranger!"  he  said,  shaking 
hands  with  her.  "You've  been  scarce.  Why,  I've 
looked  everywhere  for  you." 

"Have  you?  You  are  looking  well,  Mr.  Ehren- 
stein. ' ' 

"Bet  I'm  well!  But  you'd  better  go  to  the  sea- 
shore yourself.  I  never  saw  you  look  so  bad.  Say, 
I  don't  mean  you're  not  just  as  pretty,  though,"  he 
added,  gallantly. 

' '  Thank  you, ' '  said  Janet,  at  a  loss  how  to  get  rid 
of  him.  Denison,  having  had  no  intimation  from  his 
mistress  to  approach  nearer,  stopped  again  at  a  dis- 
creet distance,  and  slowly  turned,  walking  his  horses 
away.  Janet  did  not  wish  to  have  Ehrenstein  con- 

201 


The  Winning  Chance 

nect  her  with  the  carriage,  and  perhaps  Denison 
knew  it. 

Ehrenstein  himself  had  been  doing  some  thinking. 
Their  office,  as  well  as  Bronson's,  had  heard,  and  they 
could  not  have  told  just  how  the  report  had  originated, 
that  Janet's  family  had  come  into  some  money. 
There  was  just  enough  of  Janet's  history  and  her 
father's  misfortunes  related  to  give  the  story  perfect 
probability  and  though  Ehrenstein  had  been  somewhat 
skeptical,  he  had  no  knowledge  whatever.  He  thought 
as  he  looked  at  her  now  that  she  was  every  inch  a  lady 
in  her  stylish  linen  gown  and  simple  hat. 

But  Ehrenstein  was  never  at  a  loss  for  words. 
"I've  wanted  to  congratulate  you,"  he  said.  "We've 
all  heard  you'd  been  lucky.  A  little  spondulicks 
comes  in  handy,  don't  it?  But  say  though,  Miss 
Carew,  you  ought  to  be  in  the  office  now!  If  things 
ain  't  humming !  Varek  's  a  Jim  dandy.  Even  Braun 
and  me  are  cleaning  up  a  bit,  but  Varek 's  out  of  sight. 
I  guess,  though,  you  see  him  sometimes,  don't  you? 
So  I  'm  not  telling  you  news. ' '  Ehrenstein  had  a  con- 
viction of  Varek 's  fondness  for  the  girl,  though  in  the 
clear  light  of  her  eyes  he  ceased  to  harbor  his  previous 
suspicion ;  somehow  the  thought  of  evil  and  Janet  did 
not  go  well  together.  Ehrenstein 's  look  was  more 
complimentary  than  curious,  but  Janet  bore  it  with 
equanimity. 

"How  is  Mr.  Braun?"  she  asked. 

202 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

Ehrenstein  chuckled,  and  his  hands  came  up. 
"He's  a  little  under  the  weather  just  now,"  said  he. 
"You  see  Miss  Gladys  Hammersmith  turned  him  down. 
She's  that  swell  society  girl  that's  had  fifteen  offers 
this  winter,  one  for  every  million  her  papa  has.  Braun 
told  me  all  about  it.  It  occurred  in  the  conserva- 
tory, with  the  music  floating  by,  and  Miss  Gladys  was 
wearing  one  of  his  roses  in  her  glorious  hair.  So 
Braun  got  stirred  up  and  popped  the  question,  and 
Miss  Hammersmith  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  said  she 
was  too  young  to  marry  and  couldn't  think  of  it  at  all, 
and  Braun 's  heart  would  have  been  completely  broke, 
only  there  were  the  fourteen  others  and  they  were  all 
the  swellest  dudes.  But  he  says  he's  not  going  to 
think  of  marrying  for  a  long  time." 

Janet  laughed,  but  she  must  go.  "You  are  losing 
your  ride,"  she  reminded  him,  "and  I  must  go  on 
too." 

But  Ehrenstein  was  not  to  be  disposed  of  so  easily. 
"Say,  Miss  Carew,  can  you  keep  a  secret?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"I  think  so,"  answered  Janet,  making  up  her 
mind  just  to  walk  off  after  the  carriage. 

"Well  then,  I  am  engaged  myself." 

"Are  you?  I  am  so  glad,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 
very  happy."  She  said  it  truthfully,  for  much  as  he 
irritated  her,  he  had  really  been  kind.  The  sight  of 
him  brought  back  much  that  was  painful,  and  the 

203 


The  Winning  Chance 

disgusted  sense  of  shame,  and  the  concealment  of  it, 
that  she  carried  about  with  her  sickened  her  anew. 

"Lemme  show  you  her  picture,"  Ehrenstein  was 
saying.  He  dived  into  an  inner  pocket.  "  There, 
ain't  she  a  daisy?" 

The  young  lady  presented  some  six  inches  of  black 
pompadour  and  a  pair  of  boldly  challenging  black 
eyes.  Her  wide  smile  brought  her  nose  down  in  a 
suggestive  curve,  that  left  little  doubt  of  Mr.  Ehren- 
stein's  having  chosen  among  his  own  people.  She 
was  handsome  after  her  fashion,  and  Janet  did  not 
hesitate  to  say  so. 

Ehrenstein  put  the  face  of  his  love  back  against 
his  bosom  with  a  satisfied  air.  "It's  Miss  Schmidt," 
he  said.  "You  know  the  big  wholesale  haberdashers? 
Her  papa's  worth  a  fifty  cents  or  two,  and  she's  the 
only  kid.  I  got  that  little  beauty  to  run  her  round  in, 
and  I've  named  her  Judy  after  my  girl.  Say,  Miss 
Janet,  you  get  in  and  have  a  ride  with  me — come  on! 
She  flies  like  a  bird!" 

Then  Janet  had  an  inspiration.  "Oh,  Mr.  Ehren- 
stein, I  think  it  is  a  beauty,"  she  said.  "I  wouldn't 
go  in  it  for  worlds,  I  am  afraid,  but  I  should  so  like 
to  see  it  go ;  where  do  you  turn  it  on  ? " 

Ehrenstein 's  face  was  good  to  see.  "Beauty!" 
he  said,  expanding,  "you  bet  your  life!  Why  there 
isn't  anything  like  her  going.  She'll  beat  any  other 
runabout  in  town,  and  she  ain't  cost  me  a  dollar  in 

204 


The  Methods  of  Denis 

repairs,  but  I  begun  right.  I  chucked  out  their  old 
carburettor,  and  put  in  the  best  thing  on  the  market, 
and  I  did  the  same  thing  with  her  commutator.  I've 
bought  every  kind  of  spark-plug  that's  made, — and 
they  cost  like  the  deuce — but  the  ones  she  has  now 
are  daisies.  Just  get  in  her  a  minute,  and  we'll  give 
her  a  try!"  Ehrenstein  had  Janet's  elbow,  but  she 
declined  firmly. 

"I  can't  possibly,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  leave  the 
children.  But  I  am  anxious  to  see  you  start  off;  you 
sailed  up  so  gracefully.  She's  hard  to  start,  I 
suppose  ? ' ' 

Ehrenstein  snorted  in  scorn.  "Hard!"  he  said. 
' '  Just  a  touch !  One  turn  does  it. ' ' 

"Where  is  it?  In  front  here  where  this  thing 
hangs  down?" 

"Yes,  wait  till  I  fix  the  clutch."  Janet  retreated, 
holding  the  fascinated  Denis  by  the  hand,  and  the 
other  two  took  refuge  behind  her,  mouths  and  eyes 
open.  "Now,"  said  Mr.  Ehrenstein,  bending  and 
bracing  himself  for  the  light  "touch."  He  brought 
the  crank  around  with  much  energy,  but  Judy  gave 
a  profound  sigh  and  stood  still.  Ehrenstein  gave 
another  touch  or  two,  and  grew  red  in  the  face.  It 
was  not  an  afternoon  for  exertion.  "Those  plugs," 
he  muttered,  and  off  came  two  lids,  and  Ehrenstein 
poked  at  the  lady's  insides.  Then  back  went  the  lids, 
and  he  "touched"  twice  again  with  the  same  result. 

205 


The  Winning  Chance 

Then  he  took  off  his  cap  and  coat,  and  crawling  upon 
his  belly,  like  Nebuchadnezzar  of  old,  he  inspected 
his  beauty  from  below.  He  rose  again,  the  worse  for 
dust  and  perspiration,  and  rubbed  his  head,  murmur- 
ing "damn"  several  times.  Then  he  lifted  his  coat 
abstractedly,  and  something  bright  dropped  from  it 
to  his  shoe,  and  into  the  dust.  Ehrenstein  turned  a 
deeper  crimson  if  possible  as  he  picked  it  up,  and  as 
he  inserted  it  into  its  socket,  his  eyes  furtively  sought 
Janet's — but  she  stood  wrapped  in  ignorance. 

Then  Ehrenstein  got  to  work.  His  coat  and  cap 
went  on,  and  he  gave  one  mighty  turn,  and  Judy 
responded  instantly.  "Say,"  he  shouted  in  Janet's 
ear,  "I'll  just  go  round  the  circle  to  see  she's  all 
right,  and  I'll  be  back  in  five  minutes.  We'll  make 
the  kids  sit  on  the  floor ;  she  '11  carry  anything, ' '  and 
he  was  off.  But  ten  minutes  later  when  he  returned 
there  was  nothing  in  sight  but  the  back  of  a  smart- 
looking  coupe,  and  Ehrenstein  soothed  his  feelings 
of  hurt  surprise  by  reflecting  that  he  might  have 
looked  foolish  toting  three  kids  about. 


VII. 

A  PLAN  FOR  THE  FUTURE 

i 
IT  was  later  than  usual  that  evening  when  Janet 

climbed  the  flight  of  steps,  and  she  felt  hurried,  but 
notwithstanding  that  she  was  forced  to  stop  several 
times  and  rest.  When  finally  she  reached  the  top  she 
stood  panting,  her  hand  to  her  side.  "I  shall  not  be 
able  to  do  that  much  longer,"  she  thought,  looking 
down  by  the  way  she  had  come.  "It  gets  harder 
every  day."  She  turned,  and  to  her  surprise  Varek 
was  by  her  side.  He  had  not  come  the  day  before, 
but  even  then  it  was  very  early  for  him,  and  she 
wondered,  but  was  too  breathless  to  ask.  It  struck 
her  that  he  was  pale,  and  that  the  hard  lines  of  his 
face  showed  more  plainly  than  usual.  He  looked  at 
her  drawn  face  without  speaking,  but  he  put  his  arm 
around  her  and  helped  her  in.  Then  lifting  her  he 
carried  her  up-stairs  to  their  room. 

She  had  her  breath  by  that  time  and  laughed  a 
little.  "What  a  convenient  way  to  get  about,"  she 
said.  "You  lift  me  around  as  if  I  were  a  sack." 

If  she  had  hoped  to  soften  his  set  look,  she  was 
disappointed,  for  the  glance  he  gave  her,  though  a 
loving  one,  did  not  stir  his  gravity. 

"You  lie  still,  Peggy,"  he  said.  "I  am  going 
207 


The  Winning  Chance 

after  Dinah  to  put  you  into  something  comfortable. 
I'll  tell  her  to  bring  your  supper  up  to  the  porch. 
You  can  eat  it  lying  down  if  you  want  to." 

"But  how  about  yours?"  she  asked,  anxiously. 
His  manner  worried  her. 

"I've  had  it,  dear,  all  I  want.     I'm  not  hungry." 

Varek  not  hungry?  Janet  felt  that  something 
must  have  happened.  Dinah  helped  her  into  a  white, 
lace-frilled  wrapper,  and  let  down  her  heavy  hair. 
It  fell  a  foot  below  her  waist,  and  it  was  delicious  to 
have  the  hot  mass  removed  from  her  head.  Dinah 
brushed  and  talked,  but  Janet  did  not  hear  her,  and 
only  asked  when  Varek  had  come. 

"Mr.  Leo? — He  done  ben  here  a  hour,"  said 
Dinah. 

Janet  wondered  still  more,  and  suddenly  a  thought 
born  of  her  constant  anxiety  flashed  into  her  mind. 
She  was  away  from  Dinah 's  hand  and  out  on  the  porch 
in  an  instant.  Varek  was  standing,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  looking  out  over  the  river,  and  he  turned 
with  a  start  when  she  gripped  his  arm. 

"Leo,"  she  said,  with  blanched  lips,  "it's  not 
mother,  tell  me  it 's  not ! ' ' — then  relieved  by  his  amazed 
look,— "or  Paul?" 

"You  poor  child,  you,"  said  Varek  in  his  deep 
voice,  "no,  certainly  not!"  He  took  her  into  his 
arms  and  held  her.  "Why,  Peggy,  did  I  look  as  bad 
as  all  that?" 

208 


A  Plan  for  the  Future 

"I  knew  it  was  something,"  she  said,  breathing 
her  relief,  "and  I  thought  of  that  first." 

"Of  course,"  said  Varek,  with  some  sarcasm, 
"but  it's  nothing  of  the  kind.  You  go  into  the  ham- 
mock now — I  just  have  a  bad  attack  of  the  blues — 
my  tender  sensibilities  have  been  wounded.  It's  stag- 
gering to  suddenly  come  up  against  one's  duplicate, 
and  recognize  the  qualities ;  the  light  it  throws  on  one's 
own  actions  is  something  astonishing."  He  spoke  in 
the  enigmatic  manner  that  Janet  disliked  most,  his 
eye  cold  and  his  lip  lifted.  It  used  to  frighten  her, 
but  she  had  learned  to  know  him  better  and  under- 
stood that  it  proceeded  from  strong  emotion  of  some 
sort.  It  marked  the  change  in  their  relations  that  she 
did  not  fear  now  to  question  him  as  to  his  moods,  and 
Varek,  who  had  never  confided  in  any  one,  found  a 
real  pleasure  in  revealing  himself. 

She  asked  no  questions,  however,  until  they  were 
settled  for  the  evening.  Varek  had  arranged  a  screen 
at  her  back,  and  in  spite  of  the  heat  he  made  her  put 
something  around  her.  "I  hate  that  cough,"  he  said 
between  his  teeth.  He  had  drawn  a  chair  close  beside 
her  hammock,  his  hand  touching  hers,  and  again  he 
said,  "I  hate  this  heat."  He  said  nothing  more, 
however,  and  presently  Janet  asked,  "Is  it  money, 
Leo?" 

"No,  it's  not  that  sum  of  all  evil,  Peggy.  It's  a 
huge  disgust  and  you." 

14  209 


The  Winning  Chance 

"I  am  sorry  I  come  in,"  she  said. 

"Not  in  the  disgust,"  said  Varek.  "That's  en- 
tirely for  myself  and  circumstances  that  have  no  con- 
nection with  you  at  all.  I  can't  tell  you  about  it. 
But,  Peggy,  my  own  little  girl,  what  am  I  going  to  do 
for  you  and  myself  ? ' ' 

"What  do  you  mean,  Leo?" 

"I  mean  I  can't  go  on  any  longer,  and  watch  your 
face  change.  It's  killing  you,  this  way  of  living." 

"If  you  think  I  ought  to  keep  more  quiet,  I  will, 
only  I  have  felt  better  doing  things,  than  just  lying 
around." 

"It's  aside  from  the  question,"  he  said  with  the 
huskiness  that  feeling  always  gave  his  voice.  "You 
are  unhappy,  and  you're  ill.  I  have  watched  you  for 
weeks.  I  didn't  understand  anything  about  it  at  first, 
or  back  there  in  the  office,  how  it  would  affect  you. 
I  could  not  see  why  you  shouldn't  be  happy,  at  any 
rate  in  time,  and  I  wanted  you  terribly — I  hoped  that 
I  could  make  you  forget  all  that,  and  love  me  a  little. " 
Janet  was  silent  and  his  hand  closed  on  hers.  "I 
have  been  thinking  this  out  for  some  time,  and  the 
more  I  have  loved  you,  the  better  I  have  understood. 
I  was  a  fool  to  judge  you  by  anything  I've  known. 
You  are  not  that  kind  of  clay,  and  you  will  never  for- 
give me  my  mistake." 

"I  have  understood  how  little  of  a  wrong  it  ap- 
peared to  you,"  she  said  very  low.  "I  have  always 
known  that." 

210 


A  Plan  for  the  Future 

He  drew  a  deep  breath.  "I  thank  you  for  grant- 
ing me  that  much,"  he  said,  "and,  Peggy,  I  want 
to  ask  you  one  question — I  must  think  out  a  way  for 
ourselves,  and  I  know  you  will  tell  me  the  truth. 
Don't  you  ever  think  of  me  as  your  husband?  I 
mean,  do  you  never  feel  as  I  do,  that  there  is  a  bond 
between  us  that  would  make  the  thought  of  the  same 
relation  with  another  an  unfaithfulness;  that  save 
for  a  mere  form  we  are  husband  and  wife  ? ' ' 

Janet  was  silent,  considering  what  he  had  said, 
then  she  answered  from  her  conviction.  "I  think 
that  you  are  Mrs.  Varek's  husband,  and  the  fact  that 
we  have  made  relations  of  our  own,  cannot  change  the 
facts,  or  make  wrong  right.  I  am  hidden  away,  and 
I  am  ashamed;  is  there  no  reason  for  those  things? 
I  would  not  go  to  another,  for  I  would  not  only  be 
doing  a  still  greater  wrong,  but  it  would  be  too  vile. 
I  am  unhappy  because  I  am  daily  doing  a  thing  I 
feel  is  wrong,  and  yet  I  continue  in  it;  I  see  no 
alternative.  I  am  what  I  have  made  myself,  and  I 
can  do  with  the  rest  of  my  life  only  just  the  best  that 
I  can.  You  pressed  me  hard,  Leo,  but  I  have  never 
forgotten  that  I  yielded.  You  cannot  call  such  things 
anything  else  than  what  they  are,  and  they  disgust 
and  sicken  me.  I  am  hurting  you  and  I  am  sorry, 
but  if  for  mother's  sake  I  have  been  untruthful 
to  some,  I  never  have  been  to  you  and  I  never  will 
be." 

Varek  sprang  up  with  a  muttered  imprecation 
211 


The  Winning  Chance 

and  walked  rapidly  up  and  down.  "It  all  comes  back 
to  the  same  point,"  he  said  bitterly.  "If  you  loved 
me  these  feelings  would  fade  away  in  a  night.  Peggy, 
you  make  it  hard  for  me  and  hard  for  yourself — and 
I  cannot  give  you  up.  No,  I  will  not!  You — you  don't 
know  what  it's  like.  Good  God!"  he  stopped,  staring 
into  the  darkness  below,  "that's  where  you're  a  child 
— you  can't  understand.  But  I'll  not  give  you  up — 
I  simply  can't." 

"I  have  not  asked  you  to,"  she  said  in  her  soft 
voice.  She  had  drawn  herself  up  into  a  sitting  posi- 
tion. "Leo,  please  come  here.  You  are  only  going 
over  exactly  the  same  ground  that  we  did  six  months 
ago." 

Varek  came  and  stood  over  her,  his  face  convulsed. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  "and  you  stand  just  where 
you  did  then,  but  I,  where  am  I?  I  tell  you  I'm  in 

hell — in  hell "  His  voice  rose  and  broke.  "I 

can't  even  think  or  be  the  same  man  I  was!  I  see 
you  going  before  my  eyes.  You  can't  live  like  this, 
and  I  cannot  give  you  back  your  freedom — I  swear  to 
you  I  would,  if  I  could!"  He  had  clutched  her 
shoulder,  but  she  reached  up  and  loosened  his  fingers, 
and  drew  him  down  beside  her. 

"Hush,  dear,"  she  said,  "I  know  it.  I  have 
learned  that  much  during  these  months."  It  was  the 
first  time  she  had  used  a  caressing  word  to  him,  and 
Varek  choked  over  it  and  held  her  like  one  drowning. 

212 


A  Plan  for  the  Future 

But  she  went  on  soothingly,  "I  tell  you  what  I  think 
about  my  being  tired  all  the  time.  I  really,  naturally, 
am  very  strong,  but  it  has  been  almost  two  years  of 
strain.  Before  poor  father  died,  then  with  just 
mother  and  Paul  and  the  dreadful  anxiety,  and  these 
last  months  of  such  a  different  life — no  one  could  go 
through  it  without  breaking  down.  If  you  could  find 
a  way  for  me  to  rest  for  a  while,  just  somewhere 
where  it  is  cool — with  mother — I  think  I  should  be  well 
again." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  he  said,  irritably.  "I  had  it 
arranged,  and  I  meant  to  tell  you  that  and  something 
else,  but  I  got  off  the  track,  and  you  gave  it  to  me 
straight  in  the  face — just  give  me  time,  Peggy,  and 
I  '11  get  myself  together. ' '  He  got  up  and  went  to  the 
railing,  and  stood  looking  into  the  blackness.  It  was 
a  particularly  dark  night  and  very  still.  Every  now 
and  then  there  were  faint  flashes  of  heat  lightning. 
A  storm  might  break  before  morning,  but  now  it  was 
fearfully  close. 

Varek  came  back  presently  and  sat  down,  and  his 
face  looked  tired  and  drawn  as  did  Janet 's.  ' '  Think 
of  my  letting  myself  go  like  that,"  he  said  in  dis- 
gust, ' '  and  you  ill.  "Where 's  my  nerve  I  used  to  be  so 
proud  of?  Now,  Peggy,  I  am  going  to  say  what  I 
have  to  say  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  want  to  take  you 
and  your  mother  down  to  the  mountains — in  North 
Carolina.  They  say  it's  the  best  place  for  your 

213 


The  Winning  Chance 

mother,  for  it's  not  too  cold.  There's  a  family  I  know 
there  who  will  take  you  both,  and  Mrs.  Estiss  will  be 
competent  to  care  for  your  mother.  It's  an  absolutely 
secluded  place,  and  the  scenery  is  beautiful.  Peggy, 
for  my  sake  get  well  there ! " 

"But  you,  Leo?" 

"I'll  try  and  exist  here — I  have  enough  to  do,  God 
knows.  Are  you  pleased,  sweetheart?" 

"I  shall  like  the  coolness  and  the  change,"  she 
said. 

Varek  laughed  harshly  at  her  guarded  answer,  the 
muscles  of  his  face  twitching  in  a  grimace.  Then  his 
whole  manner  changed  and  he  bent  over  her,  resting 
Ms  hand  on  the  cushion  at  her  back.  "Peggy,"  he 
said,  "I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you — "I'll  take  you 
down  there  and  settle  you,  and  I'll  only  ask  for  a 
couple  of  days  for  myself;  I'll  try  from  now  till  then 
to  collect  strength  to  leave  you,  and  I  swear  I  will 
not  see  you  again,  unless  you  send  for  me  or  come 
to  me,  until  I  can  marry  you." 

Janet  drew  her  breath  sharply,  and  Varek  con- 
tinued, "You  don't  understand,  dear,  but  I  shall 
be  free  before  winter,  and  you  will  not  refuse  me 
that?" 

It  was  so  still  for  a  time  that  the  chirp  of  a  cricket 
in  some  corner  of  the  porch  was  startling,  and  then 
Janet  said  very  low,  "I  cannot  do  such  a  thing.  It 
would  be  at  her  expense,  and  what  real  difference 
would  it  be  to  me?" 

214 


A  Plan  for  the  Future 

"You  are  wrong  there,"  said  Varek,  "and  I  am 
telling  you  the  truth.  She  wants  to  marry  the  man 
she  has  always  cared  for  and  I  am  making  it  easy  for 
her  in  more  ways  than  one.  That  matter  was  settled 
long  ago,  not  two  weeks  after  I  brought  you  up  here. 
Do  you  think  I  was  long  in  deciding  who  it  was  I 
wanted  for  my  wife  before  the  world  as  well  as  in 
my  own  heart?  Peggy,  I  beg  you  to  have  compas- 
sion on  me — I  love  you  so,  it  must  cover  some  mis- 
takes. Does  our  relation  mean  no  obligation  at  all 
to  you,  or  is  there  any  other  who  has  a  better  right 
to  you?" 

"Leo,  I  don't  love  you — you  know  it ;  do  you  want 
an  unloving  wife?  That  is  something  I  can't 
control. ' ' 

"If  you  have  your  home  and  your  children,  and 
the  life  you  deserve,  there  would  be  love  enough, 
and  you  would  try  to  spare  me  a  little.  Even  if  you 
gave  me  nothing  in  return,  you  would  be  mine  to  love 
just  the  same." 

"A  man  in  your  position  should  have  a  wife  who 
has  an  untarnished  name.  Mine — you  know  how  a 
woman  is  judged." 

"There  is  no  one  who  knows,  and  if  I  were  not  sure 
of  guarding  you  from  anything  of  that  kind,  I  would 
not  ask  you.  I  know  my  world  better  than  you  do." 

Janet  was  silent.  "Peggy,  you  shall  have  your 
mother  with  you  as  long  as  she  lives,  and  I  will  help 

215 


The  Winning  Chance 

you  to  make  a  man  of  Paul.  Put  your  hand  in  mine — 
please — it 's  where  it  belongs.  My — own — little  girl ! ' ' 
Janet  had  raised  her  hand  uncertainly,  and  his 
had  closed  on  it.  "So,"  said  he,  huskily,  "and  how 
am  I  going  to  thank  you,  or  tell  you  how  proud  I 

am "   and  he   lifted   his   shoulders,    and   threw 

back  his  head.  "What  do  I  care  for  my  forebears 
now !  I  bet  I  can  make  my  son  proud  of  me.  A  man 
makes  himself  I  say!" 


BOOK  III. 


I. 

HORSESHOE  VALLEY 

THE  mid-afternoon  sun  fell  hot  on  the  flowered 
terrace,  bending  the  necks  of  the  brilliant  petunias 
and  poppies.  Even  the  stiff  marigolds  looked  crest- 
fallen, meekly  awaiting  the  light,  cool  breeze  that  had 
already  begun  to  stir  the  upper  branches  of  the  oaks, 
beeches,  and  chestnuts  on  the  steep  slope  above.  It 
lifted  and  turned  the  leaves  on  the  trees  on  the  hill- 
sides, and  waved  the  tasseled  heads  in  the  corn  patch 
in  the  valley  below.  The  not  unpleasant  heat  of  mid- 
day was  over  and  they  would  have  that  cool,  sweet 
breeze  for  hours. 

The  far-sighted  eyes  of  the  woman  who  sat  beside 
the  house  in  the  shade  of  the  huge  oak,  watched  its 
approach  up  the  valley.  The  natural  ledge  on  which 
the  long  rambling  house  stood  was  well  up  a  wooded 
slope  that  formed  the  apex  of  a  horseshoe  curve  of 
hills.  Directly  below,  the  valley  lay,  not  a  half- 
mile  wide,  and  but  little  more  in  length,  narrowing 
at  its  lower  end  into  a  gorge  of  rocky,  perpendicular 
sides.  From  where  the  woman  sat  she  could  look 
directly  through  it,  as  one  might  through  one's 
rounded  hand,  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  open  country 
merging  in  the  far  distance  into  the  blue  mist  of  the 

219 


The  Winning  Chance 

mountain  range.  The  scene  was  exquisite  in  its  green 
beauty,  and  there  was  perfect  quiet,  save  for  the  fall 
and  gurgle  of  the  mountain  stream  that  tumbled  over 
its  rocky  bed  not  a  hundred  feet  away.  Its  course 
was  bitten  deep  into  the  hillside,  and  in  the  winter 
its  voice  rose  to  a  roar.  On  reaching  the  valley  it 
moved  more  quietly,  slipping  along  between  its  banks 
of  tangled  willow  and  elderberry.  It  went  peace- 
fully in  summer,  running  deeply  in  winter,  past 
the  clapboard  barn  and  log  cabin,  that  were  the  only 
habitations  of  the  little  valley. 

The  woman  who  looked  and  enjoyed  was  dressed 
in  the  uniform  of  a  trained  nurse,  and  her  quiet 
deeply  lined  face  turned  now  and  then  toward  the 
long  invalid  chair  a  few  feet  from  her.  She  noted 
with  a  practised  eye  the  absolute  repose  of  the  sleep- 
ing form.  It  was  in  sleep  that  Mrs.  Carew  showed 
her  weakness  most.  "When  awake  her  quick  vivacity 
seemed  to  imply  a  latent  strength,  but  her  experienced 
nurse  knew  better  than  any  one  how  slender  a  hold 
she  had  on  life,  and  how  slight  a  shock  or  change 
would  bring  a  lasting  quiet. 

She  had  cared  for  Mrs.  Carew  during  those  six 
months  at  the  sanitarium  and  the  blind  woman  had 
come  to  look  to  her  for  everything.  The  gray,  beetle- 
browed  physician  whom  Varek  had  chosen  out  of  all 
the  eminent  of  the  city  to  watch  over  Mrs.  Carew, 
had  expressed  his  satisfaction  at  Varek 's  plan  of 

220 


Horseshoe  Valley 

change.  ''Good,"  he  said,  "it  could  not  be  better. 
With  her  it's  only  a  matter  of  time  longer  or  shorter, 
and  doctors  can't  help  her.  As  for  her  daughter  it's 
not  tonic  she  needs — just  turn  her  loose  in  the  woods. 
Let  Mrs.  Estiss  go  with  them,  and  the  sooner  the 
better." 

Varek  had  given  a  good  deal  of  thought  to  the 
choice  of  a  place  for  them,  and  had  finally  hit  upon 
Horseshoe  Valley.  He  had  gone  once  with  a  party 
of  railroad  men  to  Asheville,  and  while  there  had  met 
the  lazy  Charlestonian  who  had  amused  him  with  a 
drawling  description  of  his  home  in  the  Carolina 
mountains.  He  called  himself  "Gun 'el  Carson,"  and 
hospitably  urged  Varek  to  visit  him  and  go  trout  fish- 
ing, but  he  had  had  no  time  to  spend  that  way.  Varek 
learned  that  his  acquaintance  really  had  the  pictu- 
resque home  he  described  and  that  the  old  gentleman 
was  in  the  habit  of  eking  out  his  slender  income  by 
a  winter  boarder  or  two.  "Our  summers  cert'ly  are 
quiet,  suh,"  he  explained,  "but  we  gen'ly  have  friends 
with  us  durin'  the  wintah."  He  was  fond  of  hunt- 
ing, and  the  stories  he  told  of  deer-stalking  and  moon- 
shiners greatly  interested  Varek 's  crowd,  but  it  was 
on  trout  fishing  that  he  waxed  eloquent.  Varek  had 
gathered  that  Mrs.  Carson  was  practical  and  a  good 
cook,  a  rarity  in  that  region,  and  his  later  inquiries 
had  satisfied  him  that  Mrs.  Carew  and  Janet  would 
be  comfortable. 

221 


The  Winning  Chance 

Varek  had  come  with  them  and  installed  them  in 
their  rather  bare  but  pleasant  rooms,  and  looked  the 
ground  over  carefully.  There  was  not  a  place  where 
any  one  could  stay,  short  of  the  town  seven  miles 
away.  Gainsville  was  a  rambling  collection  of  shacks, 
a  store  or  two,  and  the  post  office.  It  lay  in  a  beauti- 
ful cup  in  the  hills  and  the  large  hotel  that  was 
building  on  one  of  the  slopes  held  promise  for  the 
future,  but  at  present  there  was  not  a  stranger's  face 
in  the  region. 

Varek  had  also  asked  some  questions  that  the 
Colonel  had  answered  satisfactorily.  "Young  men, 
suh!"  he  Had  exclaimed.  "We  don't  have  them,  suh. 
The  country  about  here  produces  a  few  boys,  and  a 
right  smart  number  of  girls,  but  the  boys  grow  to 
men  somewheres  else.  They  get  out  as  soon  as  they 
can,  exceptin'  one  or  tew  that  wouldn't  never  be 
anything  else  but  boys.  There's  Stubby  Fisher,  I 
reckon  he  might  be  twenty- three,  an'  there  are  one  or 
tew  over  to  Gainsville,  includin'  Dr.  Brown,  but  that's 
all!"  Varek  inspected  the  young  men  the  Colonel 
mentioned,  particularly  the  round-faced,  bow-legged 
Dr.  Brown,  and  felt  quite  satisfied.  Janet  could  not 
contain  her  joy  at  the  beauty  about  her,  and  whatever 
other  thoughts  Varek  carried  away  with  him,  he  felt 
he  had  chosen  wisely  for  her. 

The  coolness  began  to  be  perceptible  now,  and 
Mrs.  Estiss  moved  softly  to  lay  a  shawl  over  her 

222 


Horseshoe  Valley 

patient's  shoulders,  but  Mrs.  Carew  spoke.  "I  am 
awake,"  she  said.  "Has  Janet  come  back?" 

"She  is  coming,"  replied  Mrs.  Estiss.  "I  saw 
her  some  time  ago  down  in  the  field  below.  Would 
you  like  to  walk  a  little?" 

"Perhaps  we  could  go  a  short  way  to  meet  her." 

Mrs.  Estiss  helped  her  up  and  the  two  went  slowly 
down  the  road  that  passed  below  the  terrace.  It  led 
zigzagging  down  the  hillside  until  it  reached  the 
valley,  where  it  followed  the  course  of  the  stream  and 
out  through  the  gorge. 

They  stopped  beneath  the  terrace,  for  Janet  was 
sure  to  come  that  way,  and  presently  she  appeared  on 
the  road  below.  Looking  up  she  saw  them,  and  her 
voice  came  up  clearly, ' '  Here  I  am,  mother. ' ' 

She  did  not  take  the  longer  way  round  by  the 
road,  but  came  by  the  little,  winding  path  that  led  up 
the  steep  slope,  and  she  was  soon  laughing  and  panting 
beside  them.  "Oh,"  she  said,  "that  does  make  one's 
knees  ache !  Have  you  had  your  nap,  mother  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  dear,  and  what  have  you  been  doing  all 
afternoon  ? ' ' 

"Making  hay,"  said  the  girl  brightly.  "My  hair 
is  full  of  seeds,  and  so  are  my  shoes.  It  was  such 
fun  listening  to  their  talk." 

The  three  had  turned  and  were  walking  back  to 
the  house.  Janet  went  with  her  hand  on  her  mother's 
arm  and  even  after  her  climb  her  step  was  light.  Mrs. 

223 


The  Winning  Chance 

Estiss  smiled  as  her  eyes  rested  on  her.  The  sun  had 
given  her  clear  skin  a  warm  tinge,  not  deep  enough 
to  be  red,  nor  brown  enough  for  tan,  and  her  full 
lips  were  scarlet.  As  she  walked,  half  smiling,  her 
eyes  downcast,  and  her  long  lashes  almost  against 
her  cheek,  the  woman  thought  she  had  never  seen  any- 
thing more  lovely.  She  had  a  very  plain  woman's 
delight  in  beauty,  and  she  never  tired  of  watching  the 
girl. 

"Where  is  your  hat?"  she  asked. 

Janet  put  her  hand  to  her  tumbled  hair.  "Oh, 
dear,"  she  said,  "I  must  have  left  it  down  there. 
Never  mind,  I  don't  wear  it  anyhow." 

Mrs.  Carew  had  been  silent,  for  any  exertion  made 
her  very  short  of  breath,  but  now  she  said,  "I  wish 
you  would  wear  it,  Jannie;  you  will  get  freckled." 

"I  am  not  though,"  said  Janet.  "Am  I,  Mrs. 
Estiss?" 

"Not  yet,"  said  the  woman  in  her  prim  way,  "but 
I  wouldn't  feel  too  sure  of  myself.  Now,  Mrs.  Carew, 
we  will  fix  you  on  the  porch."  They  found  a  shel- 
tered corner,  and  brought  Mrs.  Carew 's  chair.  Janet 
drew  up  a  bit  of  matting  and  sat  on  the  floor  at  her 
mother's  side.  "Has  the  Colonel  come  back  yet?" 
she  asked. 

"Mrs.  Carson  says  he  won't  get  back  before 
night,"  Mrs.  Estiss  replied.  "She  thinks  he  must 
have  found  some  one  to  go  with  him  or  he  wouldn't 

224 


Horseshoe  Valley 

stay  so  long.  I  dare  say  he  loses  count  of  time  wad- 
ing about  those  streams,  but  how  he  manages  to  go 
without  talking  all  those  hours,  is  what  I  can't  see." 
She  spoke  with  some  acerbity,  for  the  Colonel's  drawl- 
ing flow  of  language  and  careful  avoidence  of  manual 
labor  did  not  meet  with  her  approval. 

Janet  laughed  up  at  her,  lowering  her  voice,  "You 
wouldn't  have  him  milk  the  cow  would  you?"  Mrs. 
Estiss  sniffed  and  relapsed  into  silence.  It  was  rarely 
that  she  spoke  at  all,  and  Janet  often  thought  that 
somewhere  within  she  must  have  a  world  all  her  own 
to  which  she  retreated,  for  apparently  she  took  so 
little  interest  in  those  around  her,  that  is,  aside  from 
her  own  particular  patient;  for  her,  she  was  all  eyes, 
and  ears,  and  hands.  But  Janet  was  not  repelled  by 
the  woman's  apparent  coldness,  as  a  girl  of  less  correct 
perception  might  have  been.  In  their  joint  care  for 
Mrs.  Carew  the  two  had  come  to  an  understanding  of 
each  other  and  a  consequent  liking. 

"I  wish  he  would  come  back  though."  Janet  per- 
sisted, "for  I  want  to  do  something.  I  want  him  to 
take  me  over  to  Crooked  Lake ;  Stubby  Fisher  has  been 
telling  me  about  it.  Mummie,  he  says  that  all  one 
side  of  the  lake  is  a  mass  of  water-lilies,  and  there  is 
good  fishing,  sensible  fishing — I  mean,  from  a  boat.  It 
sounds  like  the  lake  we  used  to  go  to,  mother,  do  you 
remember?" 

Mrs.  Carew  sat  up  with  animation.  "Indeed  I 
15  225 


The  Winning  Chance 

do !  Mrs.  Estiss,  we  used  to  go  in  a  big  flat-bottomed 
boat,  and  row  right  into  the  lilies,  Mr.  Carew  would, 
and  then  we  would  hold  the  children.  They  would 
just  fill  the  boat  and  put  lilies  all  over  me."  She 
lifted  her  shoulders,  sighing,  and  dropped  her  hands. 
"It  was  beautiful!" 

"You  shall  have  a  whole  bushel  of  them  to-morrow, 
mother." 

"Was  Mr.  Stubby  Fisher  helping  make  hay  too?" 
Mrs.  Estiss  inquired. 

Janet  laughed.  ' '  There  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fisher, 
and  Stubby,  and  their  way  of  making  hay  is  easy. 
They  cut  it  with  a  scythe  and  then  sat  around,  and 
then  they  raked  it  up.  Mr.  Fisher  was  always  stop- 
ping and  talking,  just  leaning  on  his  rake,  and  Mrs. 
Fisher  always  works  with  a  stumpy  pipe  in  her  mouth. 
She's  straight  up  and  down,  mother,  like  a  man,  and 
has  thousands  of  wrinkles,  and  wears  the  same  boots 
and  hat  as  Mr.  Fisher ;  the  only  difference  is  her  skirt. 
Stubby  raked  up  a  pile  for  me  to  sit  on  and  they  all 
sat  down  and  talked  about  the  man  who  shot  the 
darky  in  Gainsville.  It  is  fun  to  hear  them  talk. 
Mr.  Fisher  said,  'Ye  oughter  go  an'  see  the  trial  over 
to  Summit;  we-uns  is  all  agoin'.  They'll  be  gittin' 
the  jury  together,  an'  thet'll  be  a  tol'able  slow  busi- 
ness. You-uns  oughter  go  sure.'  I  wish  I  could 
really  talk  like  them.  Then  Stubby  said  the  court- 
house would  be  full,  that  every  one  would  go  for  miles 

226 


Horseshoe  Valley 

around,  and  they  would  begin  by  'callin'  '  the  jury. 
He  '  'lowed'  it  would  take  a  long  time,  and  I  asked 
why?  He  said  it  would  be  like  this — every  seat 
would  be  taken,  and  men  standing  against  the  walls 
all  around  the  room.  Then  they  would  call  one  after 
the  other,  and  most  of  them  would  'qualify,'  until 
it  came  to  the  last  question,  'An'  hev  you-all  paid  you- 
all's  taxes  fer  last  year?'  and  they  would  say  'naw,' 
and  have  to  go  down,  while  everybody  laughed. 
Stubby  said  that  there  might  be  a  dozen  in  the  whole 
room  who  could  say  '  I  hev. '  ' 

"But  why  don't  they  pay  their  taxes?"  Mrs. 
Carew  asked. 

"Because  they  are  so  shiftless,"  said  Janet.  "I 
knew  from  the  way  Mr.  Fisher  chuckled  that  he  had 
not  paid  his." 

"I  am  glad  it  is  all  such  fun  to  you,  Jannie;  you 
will  not  want  to  see  St.  Louis  again, ' '  and  Mrs.  Carew 
touched  her  daughter's  cheek  lovingly.  But  Mrs. 
Estiss  noticed  that  the  light  went  out  of  the  girl's 
face,  and  that  she  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

A  few  weeks  had  made  a  marvellous  change  in  her, 
but  Mrs.  Estiss  was  as  observant  as  she  was  silent, 
and  she  had  seen  the  old  look  of  settled  sadness  return 
again,  and  again;  a  word,  a  reference,  would  call  it 
back.  The  businesslike  envelope  with  its  type-written 
address,  that  formed  a  part  of  the  daily  mail,  never 
failed  to  evoke  it.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  girl 

227 


The  Winning  Chance 

looked  eagerly  for  diversion,  a  throwing  herself  as  it 
were  into  the  simple  life  about  her  with  the  desire  to 
extract  every  bit  of  joy  possible  from  it.  She  was  up 
with  the  birds  in  the  morning,  losing  nothing  of  the 
sunrise  and  early  misty  beauty.  She  tended  Mrs. 
Carson's  flower  beds  and  wandered  up  and  down  the 
stream  with  the  adventurous  delight  of  a  child.  She 
persuaded  the  Colonel  to  take  her  on  horse-back  rides 
in  all  directions,  and  came  back  with  pink  cheeks  to 
talk  it  all  over  with  her  mother.  She  made  acquain- 
tance with  every  human  being  that  she  came  across, 
and  collected  the  essence  of  the  quiet,  slow-going  life 
about  her.  She  would  listen  with  humorous  interest 
to  the  remarks  of  Stubby  Fisher  or  his  mother,  or 
seek  to  draw  out  the  half  shy,  half  admiring  mountain 
boy  who  sometimes  drove  them  about,  but  in  the  quiet 
evenings  when  Mrs.  Carew  slept,  and  Mrs.  Estiss 
slipped  down  to  the  porch,  she  would  find  the  girl 
sitting  with  her  chin  in  her  hands,  and  her  wide  eyes 
looking  into  darkness  or  misty  shadows,  lost  to  those 
about  her,  and  if  the  lines  of  her  drooping  body  and 
her  still  face  denoted  happiness,  it  was  of  a  different 
nature  from  any  Mrs.  Estiss  had  ever  known. 

The  woman  had  understood  perfectly  what  Varek 
had  meant  when  he  had  almost  doubled  her  salary  with 
the  remark  that  he  wished  frequent  reports  of  the 
progress  and  daily  interests  of  her  patients.  She 
smiled  a  little  grimly  each  week  when  she  fulfilled  her 

228 


Horseshoe  Valley 

agreement.  Her  accounts  of  Mrs.  Carew 's  condition 
and  Janet's  progress  were  full  and  exact,  but  she  re- 
flected that  if  Varek  had  imagined  that  she  might  fill 
the  position  of  spy,  he  would  meet  with  disappoint- 
ment. She  had  no  liking  for  the  hard  looking  man. 
His  cold  abrupt  manner  carried  her  back  to  painful 
experiences  in  her  own  life.  She  did  not  guess  the 
truth,  but  she  saw  plainly  that  Varek 's  interest  in 
Janet  was  unusual  and  that  it  gave  the  girl  anything 
but  pleasure.  She  surmised  that  the  two  women  were 
practically  dependent  on  him,  and  it  was  not  a  posi- 
tion she  would  have  enjoyed  for  herself. 

Janet  always  spent  the  early  evening  with  her 
mother.  Mrs.  Carew  would  go  to  bed  almost  directly 
after  supper,  and  Janet  would  sit  with  her  until  she 
went  to  sleep;  it  was  their  hour  together  as  it  had 
been  before  their  separation.  That  evening  Mrs. 
Carew  slept  earlier  than  usual,  and  Janet  sat  on, 
watching  the  twilight  grow  into  darkness.  She  was 
tired  after  her  day's  exertions,  and  her  rocker  was 
very  comfortable.  She  decided  that  she  would  go  to 
bed  early,  and  hoped  that  the  Colonel  would  come 
home  before  it  was  too  late  for  her  to  speak  to  him, 
and  it  was  with  distinct  satisfaction  a  little  later  on 
that  she  heard  his  "hello"  from  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 
She  guessed  that  there  would  be  a  second  supper  pre- 
paring, so  she  waited,  but  presently  Mrs.  Estiss  opened 
the  door  and  beckoned  her  out. 

229 


The  Winning  Chance 

"It's  Stubby  Fisher,"  she  said.  "He  wants  to 
see  you." 

"My  hat,  I  suppose,"  said  Janet.  "Why  doesn't 
he  leave  it?" 

"I  can't  say,"  Mrs.  Estiss  replied.  "He  has 
planted  himself  on  the  lowest  step  out  there,  and  he 
'  'lowed'  he  wanted  to  see  you." 

"Well,  mother's  asleep,  so  I  will  go;"  and  she 
laughed  a  little.  "Is  he  holding  his  bulldog  as  if 
he  would  let  him  fly  at  you  if  you  became  too  bold? 
He's  natural  in  the  hay-field,  but  when  he  is  making 
an  evening  call  you  feel  in  danger  of  your  life, — so 
pray  for  me. ' '  She  went  on  down  the  stairs,  looking 
back  and  smiling,  and  the  light  on  the  floor  above  fell 
on  her  upturned  face. 

The  steps  were  in  shadow  all  the  way  down  and 
Janet  was  not  paying  attention,  so  when  she  stepped 
on  something  bulky  that  turned  under  her  foot,  she 
fell  headlong.  She  grasped  in  terror  for  the  hand 
rail,  but  encountered  instead  a  very  solid  body  that 
caught  her  up  and  held  her  tightly.  "Great  Scott! 
Are  you  hurt?"  a  stranger's  voice  said  in  her  ear. 
"That  beastly  bag  of  mine — I'm  awfully  sorry!" 

Janet's  heart  had  risen  into  her  throat  with  fright, 
but  she  managed  to  gasp  out,  "  No,"  and  then, 
"They  ought  to  have  a  light  down  here."  Her  first 
consciousness  was  of  being  glad  that  she  had  not 
screamed  and  startled  her  mother. 

230 


Horseshoe  Valley 

"Mrs.  Carson  carried  it  off,"  said  the  voice  again. 
He  lifted  her  the  few  remaining  steps  to  the  floor 
below,  and  asked  anxiously,  "You  are  sure  you're 
not  hurt?"  Janet  assured  him  she  was  not. 

"I'll  go  for  a  light,"  said  the  man.  "You  might 
have  been  killed  by  that  fall.  It  was  lucky  I  was  in 
the  way. ' ' 

In  the  dimness  Janet  made  out  his  tall  form,  but 
she  was  shaken  and  embarrassed  both,  and  she  did  not 
want  a  light.  She  drew  away  toward  the  door. 
"Please  don't  trouble,"  she  said.  "I  am  all  right, 
and  I  am  going  out  on  the  porch  anyway — there's 
some  one  waiting  out  there.  Thank  you  very  much 
for — being  in  the  way,  though,"  and  she  caught  her 
breath  in  a  little  laugh  as  she  went  out. 

Stubby's  long  body  lifted  itself  from  the  step  to 
greet  her,  but  she  was  only  eager  to  sit  down ;  she  had 
been  more  frightened  than  she  knew,  and  her  knees 
felt  uncertain  under  her.  "I  almost  fell  down- 
stairs," she  said. 

"Ye  didn't  hurted  yerself  none,  did  ye?"  he  asked, 
anxiously.  "I  knowed  he  ketched  ye,  an'  I  'lowed  ye 
was  safe." 

"No,  I  am  not  hurt,  but  who  was  it  kept  me  from 
falling  ?  Did  he  come  with  the  Colonel  ? ' ' 

"I  reckon  he  did,  but  I  ain't  seen  him,"  said 
Stubby.  "I  knowed  his  voice,  though.  He  war  hyar 
last  year;  him  an'  the  Cun'el  is  mighty  good  friends." 

231 


The  Winning  Chance 

"Do  you  think  he  will  stay  here,  Mr.  Fisher?" 
Janet  asked  anxiously.  She  glanced  behind  her  as 
she  spoke,  but  though  the  light  had  been  brought  into 
the  hall  there  was  no  one  there. 

' '  I  'low  I  can 't  tell  ye, ' '  said  Stubby,  rather  sulkily. 
' '  I  reckon  you-uns  would  be  glad  ef  he  did  now  ? ' ' 

"No,"  Janet  said,  truthfully,  "I  would  not." 

"Wouldn't  ye,  sure?"  and  Stubby's  voice  ex- 
pressed satisfaction,  but  Janet  was  following  out  her 
own  thoughts. 

"If  the  Colonel  has  a  friend  he  will  be  going 
off  with  him  all  the  time,  and  won't  take  me  riding. 
I  want  to  go  for  some  of  those  water-lilies  to-morrow 
but  now  I  suppose  I  can't. ' '  Her  voice  was  full  of  dis- 
appointment. The  boy  strove  for  courage  to  offer 
himself  in  place  of  the  Colonel,  but  the  words  would 
not  come,  and  he  gripped  Tobe  a  little  more  tightly  by 
the  collar.  "You-all  sets  a  store  by  them  lilies,"  was 
all  he  found  to  say. 

"I  haven't  seen  a  water-lily  for  years,"  said  the 
girl,  longingly.  "Why  you  don't  know  what  it  is  like 
where  I  have  been  living.  It's  just  cold,  or  wet,  or 
both  together,  all  winter,  and  hot,  and  sticky,  and 
dusty  all  summer.  Think  of  putting  your  face  into  an 
armful  of  cool  water-lilies!" 

Stubby  looked  at  her,  his  long-lashed  eyes  glisten- 
ing. "You-all  wuz  meant  fer  the  mountings,"  he 
said  with  a  slower  drawl  than  usual.  "I  lowed  ye 
wuz  kin  ter  it  all,  the  fust  time  I  seen  ye. " 

232 


Horseshoe  Valley 

Janet  caught  his  meaning  and  smiled  at  him  out  of 
the  shadow.  "I  love  it  all,"  she  said,  lingeringly, 
"the  beauty — and  the  quiet — and,"  her  voice  drop- 
ping, "the  clean  living." 

"An'  you-all  hev  ter  go  back  to  it,  the  dust  an' 
thet  ? ' '  The  boy  drew  up  his  long  body,  a  deeper  note 
in  his  tones.  A  few  years  would  give  him  the  lanky 
form  of  the  mountaineer,  but  he  had  youth  in  his 
favor  now,  and  his  lean  brown  face  lighted  by  his 
somber  eyes  had  its  beauty,  as  did  the  long  lines  of 
his  figure.  The  note  of  feeling  forced  itself  even  into 
Janet's  self -absorption,  and  brought  her  back  to 
reality. 

"Yes,  and  I  will  have  to  practise  hard  to  get  some 
of  your  words  in  the  meantime — we-uns  and  you- 
uns — they  are  so  pretty,  I  think.  I  am  going  to  say 
them  after  this."  She  spoke  lightly. 

Stubby  twisted  Tobe's  collar  again,  but  he  went 
back  to  his  usual  lazy  drawl — "I'll  learn  you-all  a 
verse  we-uns  says  down  hyar,  an'  it's  purtier  fer 
bein'  true.  When  you-all  thinks  of  it  up  thar  in  the 
dust,  ye '11  remember  Tobe  an*  me  an'  the  mountings. 
Do  you-all  mind  ef  I  say  it  tew  yer?" 

"No,  I  should  like  to  hear  it  if  it's  pretty." 
""We-uns  says  it  when  we-all's  a-co'tin'.    Et  goes 
like  this : 

'Et's  hard  fer  we-uns  and  you-uns  ter  part, 
Sence  you-uns  is  stolen  we-une'  heart.' 

Dew  you-all  like  et?" 

233 


The  Winning  Chance 

"It  is  pretty,"  said  Janet,  caught  by  the  music 
of  his  soft  drawl.  ' '  Thank  you  for  repeating  it,  and 
for  bringing  my  hat  too. ' '  She  had  risen  and  Stubby 
felt  himself  dismissed.  He  stood  covered  with  con- 
fusion at  his  boldness  of  a  few  moments  before,  and 
doubtful  if  he  had  offended  her.  He  jerked  hard  at 
the  dog.  "Tobe  an'  me  must  be  goin',"  was  all  he 
could  say,  and  then  he  added  shyly,  "I  'low  you-all 
will  be  tew  tired  to  git  up  early  temorrer?" 

"Indeed,  I  shall  be  up  before  anybody  else !"  said 
Janet.  "I  always  am." 


II. 

A  SUNRISE  GREETING 

SOMETHING  waked  Janet  earlier  than  usual  the 
next  morning,  and  she  lay  a  while  wondering  if  it 
were  the  coming  day  or  the  moon  that  made  the  gray 
light  in  her  room.  She  had  only  to  raise  her  head  to 
determine;  her  window  commanded  a  view  of  the 
valley  and  the  gorge,  and  through  it  the  strip  of  hori- 
zon above  the  distant  mountain  range.  There  was  a 
warm  pink  glow  there,  the  jagged  line  of  mountain 
top  a  dark  blue  against  it.  It  was  morning  and  a 
coming  sunrise,  an  earlier  view  than  Janet  had 
had  yet. 

She  was  not  long  in  getting  up  and  as  she  dressed 
she  watched  the  sky.  It  took  an  hour  for  the  sun  to 
climb  above  the  surrounding  hill-tops  and  touch  the 
flowers  on  the  terrace,  but  in  summer  there  was  always 
the  view  of  the  first  faint  glow  through  the  gorge, 
and  the  whole  front  of  the  house  commanded  it. 

Janet  moved  softly,  for  she  did  not  want  to  wake 
any  one.  She  could  count  on  two  hours  for  herself 
before  the  household  would  be  stirring.  She  put  on 
a  white  woolen  dress  and  selected  a  red  tie  for  its 
warm  color,  for  the  mist  lay  thick  in  the  valley,  and 
its  cold  breath  had  crept  up  the  hill-side. 

It  was  lighter  now,  and  the  pink  glow  had  spread 
235 


The  Winning  Chance 

and  shot  higher  into  the  sky;  it  turned  the  gray  fog 
in  the  valley  to  a  pale  lavender,  and  the  trees  began 
to  show  green.  Janet  opened  her  door  and  stole  out. 
The  hallway  was  in  darkness  yet,  and  warned  by  her 
experience  of  the  night  before,  she  made  use  of  the 
hand-rail.  There  was  a  crack  of  light  around  the 
front  door,  and  it  was  ajar,  which  did  not  surprise 
her,  the  closing  of  doors  and  windows  being  an  unim- 
portant thing  in  that  house ;  but  with  her  hand  on  the 
knob  she  stood  arrested.  It  came  to  her  through  the 
crack  and  filled  the  corner  of  the  hall,  a  sweet,  cool 
scent  that  she  knew,  and  she  pulled  at  the  door  in  a 
flush  of  anticipation.  There  they  were  banked  at  her 
feet,  armf uls  of  them ;  the  night  chill  had  half-closed 
the  flowers,  and  the  white  petals  were  gathered  up  in 
their  green  sheaths,  but  they  were  her  water-lilies. 
She  wasi  down  over  them  in  an  instant  with  a  low 
sound  of  delight.  She  gathered  them  up  damp  as  they 
were  and  put  her  face  into  them,  then  sitting  down 
on  the  floor,  half  in,  half  out  of  the  door,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  enjoy  them  fully.  There  were  so  many 
she  did  not  see  how  any  one  could  have  gathered  them 
all  in  one  night,  and  they  were  rather  curiously  di- 
vided into  two  groups,  one  tied  with  some  endeavor 
at  arrangement,  and  the  other  loose  with  plenty  of 
big  green  leaves  among  them;  both  together,  they 
made  a  pile  that  reached  almost  to  her  chin.  Her 
hand  sought  among  them  and  drew  out  a  great  long- 

236 


A  Sunrise  .Greeting 

stemmed  beauty,  more  widely  open  than  the  others, 
and  with  it  at  her  lips  she  looked  up  and  sat  still  with 
surprise. 

Not  six  feet  from  her,  carelessly  seated  on  the 
porch-rail,  one  foot  swinging,  sat  a  young  man,  his 
gaze  riveted  on  her.  Her  stare  of  utter  amazement, 
merging  gradually  into  recognition,  met  fairly  the 
dancing  light  in  his  bright  hazel  eyes,  and  they  looked 
at  each  other  in  perfect  silence.  Then  Janet  dropped 
her  flower  and  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  but  he 
spoke. 

"It  is  really  I,  Miss  Carew,  and  you  are  really 
you — but  you  don 't  remember  my  name  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Janet  vaguely,  "but — but  I 
don't  understand  about  your  being  here."  She  be- 
came conscious  of  her  undignified  position  on  the 
floor  and  started  to  rise,  and  he  sprang  to  help  her. 
"Please  don't  look  so  startled,"  he  said.  "I  am 
actually  flesh  and  blood — you  can  feel  me!" 

They  stood  holding  hands  a  moment  over  the  lilies, 
and  then  Janet  began  to  laugh  softly,  and  he  laughed 
with  her.  ' '  It  was  you  last  night  then,  Mr.  Carroll ; 

I  might  have  guessed But  I  have  my  wits  now, 

though  I  am  just  as  much  surprised,"  and  she  drew 
her  hand  away. 

"I  have  been  sitting  here  a  half  hour  or  more, 
wondering  if  you  would  recognize  me  when  you 
opened  the  door." 

237 


The  Winning  Chance 

"How  did  you  know  I  would  get  up  early?"  she 
asked. 

His  eyes  twinkled.  "I  understood  it  was  your 
custom." 

"The  Colonel  told  you  that  we  were  here  then," 
said  Janet.  ""Why  didn't  you  introduce  yourself  last 
night  instead  of  being  so  mysterious?"  She  had  gone 
back  to  the  half  playful  manner  of  their  short  ac- 
quaintance, and  he  answered  her  in  turn. 

"I  didn't  know  a  thing  about  it  until  I  saw  the 
light  on  your  face  last  night;  I  might  be  pardoned 
for  losing  my  head  a  bit  afterwards.  I  stood  there 
on  the  steps  quite  as  surprised  as  you  were  this 
morning,  and  next  I  had  too  sharp  a  fright  to  think 
of  anything  else.  Do  you  realize  Miss  Carew  that  it 
is  nearly  five  years  since  we  danced  together  that 
night?" 

"More  nearly  twenty,  I  think,"  said  the  girl, 
sobering. 

"Won't  you  sit  down — here  on  the  bench?"  he 
asked.  ""We  can  see  the  sun  rise  while  we  talk." 

"I  ought  to  put  those  lilies  in  water,"  Janet  was 
hesitating. 

"They're  wet,"  he  objected;  "it  won't  hurt  them 
to  stay  a  little  longer,  and  the  others  will  be  about 
before  long.  Ah,  look  at  that!"  The  dark  sides  of 
the  gorge  framed  a  perfect  blaze  of  glorious  light. 
Behind  the  purple  ridge  of  mountain,  there  burned 

238 


A  Sunrise  Greeting 

a  fiery  furnace,  turning  the  whole  eastern  sky  into 
a  glow  of  changing  colors ;  rays  of  light  shot  up,  touch- 
ing the  low-lying  fleecy  clouds  with  all  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow. 

"Five  minutes  more!"  he  said  almost  in  a 
whisper.  "Miss  Carew  have  you  seen  it  before?" 

"Never  as  wonderful  as  that,"  she  answered,  as 
low  as  he. 

They  watched  in  silence  the  wavering  glow  as  it 
leaped  flame-like,  shooting  up  higher  and  higher,  and 
suddenly  out  of  the  fiery  depths  appeared  a  rim  of 
light  so  piercing  that  it  blinded  the  eyes  of  the  two 
watchers. 

"Another  day,"  said  Carroll,  turning  to  his  com- 
panion and  noting  the  quiet  lines  into  which  her  face 
had  settled.  "Miss  Carew,  what  have  you  been  doing 
all  these  five  years  ? ' ' 

They  looked  at  each  other  and  had  their  own 
thoughts.  He  was  much  the  same,  his  eyes  as  she 
remembered  them,  full  of  pleasant  light,  but  his  clear 
cut  features  looked  older.  His  fair  hair  with  its 
undeniable  tinge  of  red  was  cut  close,  but  even  then 
it  could  not  hide  a  slight  crisp  wave.  He  was  clean 
shaven,  and  his  square  jaw  with  its  rather  stubborn 
looking  chin  saved  the  face  from  any  approach  to 
mere  beauty  that  the  brow  and  eyes  alone  might  have 
suggested.  It  was  a  nice  face,  clean  and  well  tanned, 
and  in  keeping  with  his  good  height  and  broad  shoul- 

239 


The  Winning  Chance 

ders.  There  was  the  air  of  the  trained  athlete  in  his 
easy  carriage,  and  Janet  noticed  it  that  morning  as 
she  had  five  years  before,  and  it  was  attractive.  She 
was  a  little  doubtful  and  critical  as  well,  but  she 
decided  she  liked  his  face  and  that  he  was  as  she  had 
remembered  him. 

It  took  him  a  shorter  time  to  draw  his  conclu- 
sions and  he  smiled  at  her  grave  look.  "Well?"  he 
said. 

Janet  smiled  back  at  him.  "I  was  just  seeing  if 
you  were  changed.  I  have  been  so  surprised  that  I 
haven't  had  time  to  notice." 

"You  are,  very  much — your  whole  expression;  but 
you  are  more  beautiful  than  you  were."  He  spoke 
in  simple  conviction,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  Janet 
to  feel  self-conscious. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  continued,  "that  I  was  at  your 
old  home  not  three  weeks  ago  ?  Nobody  could  tell  me 
a  thing  about  you — I  suppose  I  didn't  see  the  right 
people. ' ' 

"In  Virginia!    Did  you  really  go  to  our  house?" 

"To  your  very  doorstep." 

"Oh,  tell  me  how  it  looks — is  it  changed?"  She 
had  turned  full  on  him,  her  eyes  wide  and  her  hands 
lifted  in  her  usual  gesture  when  moved.  The  sun- 
burn in  the  young  man's  cheek  deepened  a  trifle. 
"What  a  perfect  little  beauty!"  he  said  to  himself. 
"What  eyes! — but  her  mouth  is  just  as  sweet  as  ever, 

240 


A  Sunrise  Greeting 

in  spite  of  her  looking  so  sad. ' '  He  had  heard  some- 
thing of  Mr.  Carew's  disastrous  career. 

"You  forget  I  had  never  been  before,"  he  said 
aloud,  "but  it  all  looked  old  enough,  and  beautiful 
enough." 

"Was  the  honeysuckle  by  the  porch,  and  the 
grape-vine?" 

"Yes,  both  of  them,  and  the  locust-trees  were  in 
full  bloom,  and  a  whole  tangle  of  Persian  roses  on 
the  terrace."  The  young  man  was  getting  a  rather 
intoxicating  continuance  of  Janet's  deep  look,  and 
would  gladly  have  answered  questions  without  end, 
but  she  turned  away  with  a  quiver  of  her  chin. 

"If  I  could  only  see  it,"  she  said.  "Who  owns 
it  now?" 

"Some  one  had  just  bought  it,  some  stranger." 
The  girl  was  keeping  her  face  well  turned  from  him, 
and  Carroll  searched  in  his  mind  for  some  subject 
that  would  make  her  look  at  him  again,  and  he  par- 
tially succeeded.  "I  talked  to  your  old  Mammy," 
said  he. 

1 '  Mammy  Wilda !    Did  she  talk  about  me  ? " 

"All  of  you,  but  you  in  particular,"  and  deter- 
mined not  to  lose  her  attention  he  plunged  into  a 
recital,  Janet  listening,  her  face  changing  from  joy 
to  sadness,  or  again  to  amusement,  as  he  touched  upon 
different  recollections.  "I  went  down  there  to  hunt 
up  some  relatives  and  stay  with  them, ' '  he  concluded. 
16  241 


The  Winning  Chance 

' '  I  had  promised  myself  to,  as  soon  as  I  could  manage 
it.  You  knew  I  was  a  Virginian, — originally — didn't 
you?" 

"I  remember  you  told  me — but  why  did  you  come 
away?" 

"Because  I  was  disappointed;"  and  he  eyed 
her  a  moment  as  if  to  go  on,  and  with  almost  any 
of  the  many  girls  he  had  known  he  would  not  have 
hesitated,  curiosity  as  to  how  his  remark  might  be 
received  would  have  prompted  him,  but  with  her  for 
some  reason  he  found  himself  silent.  "I  had  a  long- 
ing for  the  mountains,"  he  said.  "Last  year  I  was 
architect  for  a  wealthy  New  York  man  who  built  a 
home  here  in  the  mountains,  and  I  found  this  hidden 
place  and  the  Colonel.  I  had  a  sudden  wish  to  come 
and  I  came." 

"Can  you  skip  about  the  country  wherever  you 
want  to  go?"  Janet  just  glanced  at  him  from  under 
her  long  lashes ;  he  did  not  have  the  air  of  a  worker. 

"Can  I!"  he  returned.  "I  should  rather  say 
not !  I  work  like  a  slave  most  of  the  time.  Of  course 
you  don't  know,  but  father  had  bad  luck  not  long 
after  I  met  you,  and  it  was  only  because  mother  was  a 
regular  general  that  we  got  on  our  feet  again.  I've 
put  in  pretty  steady  years  these  last  four,  I  assure 
you."  He  spoke  with  a  good  deal  of  warmth,  and 
Janet  observed  him  demurely. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  insult  you,"  she  said. 

242 


A  Sunrise  Greeting 

"Your  tone  was  uncomplimentary.  I  deserve  a 
few  weeks'  vacation  out  of  two  years,  don't  I?" 

"I  don't  know — I  thought  you  seemed  so  very 
able-bodied — but  of  course  I  am  not  a  good  judge." 

He  looked  at  her  as  one  would  at  a  tantalizing 
child,  and  then  he  laughed  at  her.  ' '  I  had  thought  I 
would  give  myself  two  weeks  more,  but  now  I  shall 
make  it  a  month." 

"Here?" 

"Yes,  in  this  house.  I  need  more  rest,  and  you 
need  some  one  to  supply  you  with  water-lilies. ' ' 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  girl,  lifting  her  chin.  "I 
seem  to  be  supplied." 

"Would  you  be  satisfied,  Madam,  with  less  than 
that  number?"  and  he  pointed  to  the  mass  on  the 
floor. 

' '  No,  certainly  not ! ' ' 

"Well,  which  collection  did  you  judge  was  mine?" 
— his  eyes  were  dancing  again. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  answered  Janet, 
with  dignity. 

"I  suppose  you'  observed  that  there  were  two 
separate  piles ;  for  which  do  you  think  I  was  respon- 
sible?" His  look  enlightened  her  more  than  his 
words,  and  she  flushed  pink. 

"Do  you  mean,  Mr.  Dorsey  Carroll,  that  you  heard 
my  remarks  last  night?" 

"A  few,  Miss  Carew — my  bedroom  window  is 
directly  over  where  you  sat  and  I  am  not  deaf." 

243 


The  Winning  Chance 

"The  lake  is  six  miles  away,  and  there  is  nothing 
but  a  leaky  boat  there,  and  it  was  dark."  Janet's 
manner  was  gravely  disapproving. 

"I  rode  there.  It  was  moonlight,  and  I  was  an 
hour  ahead  of  Mr.  Fisher,"  Dorsey  chuckled.  "I 
had  my  lilies  safe  on  the  horse,  and  covered,  when 
he  rode  up,  and  I  was  quite  as  much  surprised  to 
see  him  as  he  was  to  see  me,  I  think.  'Hev  you-all 
ben  fishin'?'  he  asked.  'Yes,'  I  said,  'and  I  hope 
you  have  as  good  luck,'  and  I  left  him." 

Janet  would  not  smile  or  look  at  him,  and  he  went 
on,  though  not  quite  as  assuredly.  "You  haven't 
answered  my  question  yet,  Miss  Carew, — which  bunch 
do  you  think  is  mine?" 

She  turned  and  studied  them  then,  her  brow 
slightly  drawn.  "The  one  tied  with  string,"  she  said 
finally.  "The  other  is  so  much  more  artistic." 

He  flushed  scarlet  in  spite  of  himself,  and  the  girl 
knew  it,  and  it  only  gave  a  greater  carelessness  to  her 
proposal.  "They  ought  to  go  in  water,  don't  you 
think  so?  Will  you  help  me?" 

The  young  man  complied  rather  meekly,  and 
helped  her  gather  them  up,  but  his  dejection  was  not 
proof  against  time,  for  Mrs.  Estiss,  hearing  laughing 
voices,  looked  out  of  her  back  window  and  saw  a  pretty 
sight.  A  very  good-looking  young  man  with  his 
sleeves  rolled  well  up  on  his  muscular  arms,  was  filling 
a  tub  with  water,  and  Janet,  her  arms  bare  also,  was 

244 


A  Sunrise  Greeting 

poking  and  twisting  the  long  stems  down  into  the 
water.  She  had  stuck  a  lily  in  her  hair,  and  her 
face  was  as  bright  as  the  morning. 

It  is  difficult  for  youth  to  keep  from  laughter,  if  it 
is  tempted  by  youthful  joy  in  return,  and  it  is  easier 
to  forget  the  past  and  live  in  the  present,  when  one 
has  not  yet  learned  from  frequent  experience  that  it 
is  the  past  and  the  present  that  go  to  make  up  the 
sum  of  the  future.  The  two  that  had  come  together 
and  touched  hands,  met  and  turned  to  each  other  as 
naturally  as  the  pond-lily  to  the  sun,  or  a  bird,  to  its 
mate,  and  that  is  as  it  should  be.  So  at  least  thought 
Mrs.  Estiss  and  the  old  Colonel  as  the  sunny  days 
passed,  and  there  was  a  small  conspiracy  on  foot 
among  those  who  had  in  their  time  experienced,  or 
longed  for,  a  like  happiness. 


III. 

TRUTH,  THE  WHOLE  TRUTH,  AND  NOTHING 
BUT  THE  TRUTH 

IT  was  early,  shortly  after  eight,  when  Varek  en- 
tered his  office.  Barnes  had  been  at  work  for  an 
hour,  arranging  window-shades  and  electric  fans,  for 
a  glance  at  the  thermometer  promised  a  record 
breaker.  It  was  the  "hot  week"  in  September,  and  in 
spite  of  his  loyalty  a  St.  Louian  will  confess  it  "pretty 
bad." 

Varek  did  not  look  very  well.  The  fold  in  his 
brow  had  deepened  in  the  last  few  months.  It  had 
been  a  trying  summer  as  to  weather,  but  Varek  paid 
little  heed  to  that;  he  had  been  desperately  busy, 
and  glad  of  it,  for  time  would  have  dragged  inter- 
minably if  he  had  not  been.  He  had  known  very  well 
that  it  would  be  a  bad  time  for  him,  but  the  reality 
far  outstripped  his  conception  of  it.  He  was  restless, 
lonely,  foreboding,  and  thoroughly  unhappy.  He 
longed  for  her  letters,  like  a  terribly  thirsty  man  for 
water,  and  when  they  came  it  was  merely  a  drop  on 
his  hot  tongue.  They  were  a  dutiful  recital  of  her 
daily  life,  and  she  gave  him  descriptions  of  people 
and  her  surroundings  that  were  well  done,  for  she 
evidently  enjoyed  the  things  of  which  she  wrote,  but 

246 


The  Truth 

Varek  scanned  them  in  vain  for  a  single  word  that 
held  the  note  he  longed  for.  She  often  expressed 
a  few  words  of  friendship,  and  always  a  wish  for  his 
welfare,  but  that  was  all.  For  days  he  would  succeed 
in  writing  calmly,  and  then  would  come  the  time  when 
the  barriers  were  down,  and  his  words  fairly  burnt  the 
paper.  It  was  like  dashing  himself  against  a  stone 
wall  in  hope  of  making  a  breach,  and  as  futile.  In  his 
more  collected  moments  he  wondered  at  the  strength 
of  will  that  had  kept  him  true  to  his  promise ;  surely 
it  deserved  some  reward. 

"Any  mail?"  he  asked  that  morning.  It  was  his 
constant  question,  and  Barnes  thought  that  any  man 
ought  to  be  satisfied  with  the  pile  he  daily  laid  before 
his  employer. 

Varek  sorted  them  rapidly,  but  what  he  wanted 
was  not  there,  and  he  turned  with  a  deeper  frown 
to  one  that  he  had  tossed  aside  from  the  others.  It 
bore  the  mark  of  a  Colorado  town,  and  he  read  it  with 
no  pleasant  expression. 

"Dear  Varek,"  it  said,  "I  am  over  here  for  sup- 
plies, so  take  the  opportunity  to  send  you  a  line.  That 
cub  you  sent  out  here  has  cut  the  traces  at  last  and 
made  off.  I  have  given  you  my  opinion  of  him  before, 
so  won't  repeat  it.  I'll  only  say  that  whatever  he's 
fit  for  I  don't  know,  but  certainly  it's  not  for 
ranching. 

"He's  been  going  it  pretty  hard  lately,  for  there's 
247 


The  Winning  Chance 

been  a  pretty  tough  gang  over  to  Foster's,  and  they 
say  he  has  won  some.  He's  kept  quiet  about  his  inten- 
tions, so  I  can't  tell  you  where  he  is,  but  when  funds 
give  out  I  suppose  hell  turn  up  on  your  hands. 

"I'm  sorry,  and  I  think  you  know  that  if  Mamie 
and  I  could  have  done  anything  with  him  we  would 
have.  It's  no  good  trying  to  make  a  cracked  pot  hold 
water,  and  his  opening  is  pretty  wide,  I'm  thinking. 
Hear  you  are  making  your  everlasting  pile,  and  1 
am  glad  of  it.  Things  here  are  fair  to  middling,  cattle 
looking  up  some.  Mamie  wants  to  be  remembered — 
and  I  am  as  ever 

Yours, 

D.  BKISCOE." 

"Bah!"  said  Varek,  throwing  the  missive  from 
him  and  going  back  to  his  grievance.  "Why  in  hell 
doesn  't  she  write  to  me !  Four  days  and  not  a  word. 
Come  in!"  he  called  savagely  to  Barnes's  knock. 

"Two  telegrams,  sir,"  said  the  man.  "Shall  he 
wait?"  but  Varek  was  reading,  and  at  a  glimpse  of 
his  face  Barnes  went  out.  He  had  never  seen  his 
employer  look  like  that  before.  Varek  read,  half  ris- 
ing from  his  seat  as  he  did  so.  It  was  rather  a  long 
message,  and  his  look  was  as  mystified  as  it  was 
startled.  He  held  it  a  moment  in  his  hand,  his  quick 
brain  working;  then  he  started  for  the  door,  but 
recollecting  the  second  envelope  as  a  possible  explana- 
tion he  tore  it  open.  It  was  brief  enough  and  dated 

248 


The  Truth 

the  night  before.  "Will  arrive  to-morrow  morning. 
You  will  find  me  at  the  house."  It  was  signed  Janet. 

"Good  God! — What  does  it  mean?"  he  gasped. 
"She  doesn't  know — and  is  here !"  and  then  it  rushed 
over  him,  sweeping  away  every  other  thought  for  a 
moment.  "She  is  here  with  me  again,  and  she  has 
come  of  her  own  accord " 

He  jerked  at  his  watch  and  saw  the  time,  and 
catching  up  the  telephone  with  a  shaking  hand,  he 
called  up  his  garage.  "Send  the  machine  round  to 
the  office  at  once,"  he  ordered,  hoarsely.  "Tell  Steb- 
bins  to  make  time,  do  you  hear?  I'm  waiting!" 

As  he  sped  along  the  dusty  streets,  his  thoughts 
traveled  back  and  forth  seeking  a  solution.  Under- 
neath it  all,  the  main  point  to  which  he  returned 
after  conjecture  and  anxious  questioning  was  the  sat- 
isfaction of  her  actual  presence.  It  was  the  founda- 
tion to  build  upon,  and  Varek  gathered  together  his 
forces.  He  did  not  deceive  himself ;  he  felt  there  was 
a  crisis  at  hand,  though  as  yet  he  was  in  the  dark, 
and  he  called  upon  a  lifetime  of  quick  thinking  and 
accurate  judgment  to  aid  him. 

Dinah  rolled  the  whites  of  her  eyes  at  his  ques- 
tioning look.  "She  am  upstairs,"  she  said,  and  he 
waited  for  no  more;  one  look  would  tell  him  more 
than  the  black  woman  could. 

For  the  sake  of  coolness,  every  blind  in  the  room 
was  drawn  except  at  the  window  where  Janet  sat,  but 

249 


The  Winning  Chance 

that  was  open  to  the  top,  and  Varek  had  a  good 
view  of  her  the  moment  he  entered  the  door.  She  sat 
on  a  low  seat,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  chin 
in  her  hands,  her  eyes  apparently  on  the  river. 
She  did  not  hear  him  and  he  stopped  to  observe  her. 
He  could  catch  only  a  bit  of  her  profile,  but  the  lines 
of  her  crouching  figure  expressed  profound  dejection. 
She  looked  as  if  she  might  have  sat  there  for  hours 
oblivious  to  surroundings,  and  though  he  was  only  a 
foot  or  two  from  her  she  did  not  stir.  He  did  not 
wish  to  startle  her  too  much  by  touching  her,  and  he 
spoke  her  name  softly.  "Peggy." 

She  turned  then  slowly  and  looked  up  at  him. 
Her  face  had  a  more  rounded  contour  than  when  he 
had  last  seen  her,  but  in  the  cruelly  bright  light  that 
fell  from  the  window  she  looked  so  ghastly  as  almost 
to  be  blue.  There  was  a  line  from  nose  to  chin  such 
as  one  sees  in  a  middle-aged  woman  who  is  suffering, 
and  the  dumbly  hurt  look  of  a  wounded  animal  was  in 
her  blank  gaze.  Varek 's  heart  contracted  as  he 
looked  at  her,  and  the  flush  of  joy  he  had  felt  at  the 
sight  of  her  in  their  room  again,  ebbed  away.  What 
was  it? 

She  dragged  at  a  chair  beside  her  and  stood  up, 
and  her  voice  was  low  and  lifeless.  "Leo,  I  have 
come  back  to  you. ' '  His  throat  hurt  him,  but  he  put 
his  arms  about  her  and  held  her  close.  "Yes,  sweet- 
heart, ' '  he  whispered,  ' '  and  I  will  help  you,  whatever 
it  is." 

250 


The  Truth 

She  laid  her  head  on  his  breast  as  if  too  weary  to 
hold  it  up,  and  he  kissed  her  softly  many  times.  His 
compassion  was  too  great  to  allow  of  the  thrill  the 
touch  of  her  had  always  caused.  He  must  look  to 
her  comfort  first. 

* '  Has  Dinah  taken  care  of  you  ? "  he  asked.  ' '  You 
must  have  travelled  all  night." 

"Yes,  she  helped  me  change,"  and  she  touched  the 
white  wrapper  she  wore.  It  was  the  same  she  had 
worn  the  night  that  seemed  years  ago,  when  she  had 
told  him  she  would  marry  him.  It  had  hung  in  the 
closet  ever  since,  and  in  those  months  of  absence 
Varek  's  hand  had  often  caressed  it.  He  made  her  sit 
down  and  brought  her  everything  he  could  think  of 
for  her  comfort,  and  at  last  she  rewarded  him  with 
a  look  less  vague. 

"You  are  not  looking  well,"  she  said  in  her  dull 
voice. 

"I  am  all  right.  Are  you  feeling  able  to  talk  now 
or  would  you  rather  wait?"  His  first  fright  was 
over  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  not  endure 
the  suspense. 

Her  hands  came  together  in  her  lap  tightly,  the 
gesture  he  knew  so  well,  and  he  asked,  "Is  it  your 
mother,  Peggy?" 

"No,  mother  is  well. "  From  his  knowledge  it  was 
the  answer  he  expected,  but  not  the  one  he  wanted. 
He  breathed  a  sigh  and  the  vein  in  his  forehead  grew. 

251 


The  Winning  Chance 

He  prayed  silently  for  wisdom  and  above  all  self- 
control.  He  told  himself  that  when  he  had  first  looked 
into  her  face,  he  had  known  what  it  would  be.  What- 
ever it  was  she  had  come  to  ask,  the  fact  remained  that 
she  had  come,  and  she  had  said,  "I  have  come  back 
to  you." 

"Tell  me  who  it  is,"  he  said.  "I  know  enough 
for  that." 

She  did  not  answer  his  question  directly,  "I  did 
not  do  it  deliberately,"  she  said.  "I  have  tried  to 
keep  faith  with  you — since  the  time  I  knew." 

"But  you  love  him?" 

"Yes — I  cannot  help  it. "    Her  tone  was  final. 

He  swept  her  with  a  look  of  flame,  but  she  met  it 
with  one  of  settled  despair.  It  seemed  to  matter  little 
to  her,  his  anger  or  his  compassion.  She  was  in  the 
grip  of  an  emotion  too  strong  for  it  to  reach  her. 

Varek  got  up  and  walked  to  the  window,  and  he 
stood  long  with  his  clenched  hands  in  his  pockets. 
His  anger,  his  pity,  his  passionate  love  for  her,  and 
the  burning  fire  of  his  jealousy,  swept  over  him  in  turn 
and  together.  "What  shall  I  do  now,  what  can  I  do 
now  ? ' '  repeated  itself  over  and  over  again.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  heat  waves  that  shimmered  and  wav- 
ered on  the  bank  below,  originated  in  his  own  brain. 
He  would  make  her  tell  him  everything,  he  guessed 
that  she  would  wish  to  do  that,  but  when  it  came  to 
the  final  question,  what  would  he  do?  And  the  man 

252 


The  Truth 

who  had  taken  her  away  from  him — the  blood  pounded 
in  his  temples — he  dared  not  hear  his  name  until  he 
was  calm.  He  had  always  feared  this,  and  yet  it  had 
taken  him  unprepared. 

He  turned  at  length  and  looked  at  her  where  she 
sat,  her  hands  in  her  lap,  her  eyes  on  the  floor,  the 
wreck  of  the  girl  who  had  come  so  timidly  into  his 
office  just  a  year  ago;  as  that  older  man  had  done 
to  the  father,  so  had  he  done  to  the  daughter.  In  the 
passions  that  tugged  at  him  was  there  to  be  no  consid- 
eration for  her?  "Was  he  a  man  or  just  a  beast  out- 
right, like  that  other  that  he  had  held  by  the  throat? 
It  was  not  the  only  time  in  the  last  months  that  he  had 
asked  himself  the  same  question,  only  now  it  must 
be  answered — after  he  had  heard  all — that  must  come 
first.  Then  there  was  that  telegram  in  his  pocket. 

It  was  so  still  that  the  tick  of  the  little  gold  clock, 
a  present  to  her,  was  plainly  audible  from  the  bedroom 
beyond.  He  slowly  gathered  hold  on  his  faculties. 
The  main  fact  he  knew,  but  all  the  rest  was  surmise, 
and  what  he  must  do  first  was  to  school  himself  to  lis- 
ten. He  picked  up  the  stool  at  his  feet  and  brought  it 
to  her  knee.  Sitting  there  he  could  look  directly  into 
her  face.  He  rested  one  hand  on  the  back  of  the 
couch,  and  with  the  other  he  touched  her  clasped 
hands  gently. 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me  everything,"  he  said,  low 
but  firmly.  "I  can  do  nothing  until  I  know  the  facts. 
Did  you  want  to  tell  me?" 

253 


The  Winning  Chance 

She  looked  at  him  now.  "I  came  back  to  do  it," 
she  said  simply. 

"Then  be  perfectly  frank  with  me,  don't  mind 
detail — and,  Peggy,  don't  consider  me.  I  want  the 
truth  from  you,  the  whole  thing  from  beginning  to 
end.  If  you  promise  me  that,  I  will  not  interrupt. 
Tell  me  first  of  all  his  name." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  dull  pain  in  her  eyes. 
"Leo,  I  shall  hurt  you  terribly — I  did  not  know  be- 
fore what  it  was,  that  kind  of  misery.  I  know  now 
and  you  must  pardon  me." 

' '  God  knows  which  one  of  us  should  ask  pardon  of 
the  other,"  he  said,  thickly. 

' '  I  must  go  back  for  you  to  understand, ' '  she  said. 
"You  have  never  known  much  of  what  I  was  think- 
ing, or  how  I  felt.  At  first  you  didn't  care  very 
much;  you  had  never  thought  of  anybody  but  your- 
self and  it  was  not  easy  for  you  to  begin  doing  it. 
You  wanted  me  to  care  and  feel  in  a  way  I  could  not, 
and  it  nearly  drove  me  to  be  a  bad  woman,  I  mean 
like  the  worst  kind  of  women;  I  was  almost  there 
and  I  want  you  to  know,  for  I  don't  think  you  realize 
that  I  could  be  like  that. — In  all  this  I  have  had  that 
side  of  myself  to  fight. 

"It  was  the  old  man  at  the  book-stall  that  saved 
me  then.  He  told  me  about  my  father,  and  he  asked 
me  if  I  were  going  to  lose  my  soul  too.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  something  that  was  hard  and  careless  gave 

254 


The  Truth 

way  in  me,  and,  Leo,  after  that  I  tried  to  love  you. 
I  tried  to  think  sensibly  and  not  wildly.  I  thought 
perhaps  I  could  make  something  like  the  future  you 
planned  for  us,  that  was  why  I  consented;  he  had 
asked  me  if  there  was  nothing  I  could  turn  to  good  in 
my  life. — When  you  took  me  away  to  that  beautiful 
place  and  left  me  to  myself,  I  kept  on  trying ;  I  wanted 
to  enjoy  just  naturally  everything  about  me.  I  would 
pretend  nothing  to  you  in  my  letters  that  I  did  not 
feel,  but  I  never  had  a  thought  of  changing  things 
from  the  way  you  had  planned.  Then  he  came,  Dor- 
sey  came,  and  I  forgot, ' '  she  swallowed  with  difficulty. 
"I  knew  him  a  long  time  ago  in  New  York;  we 
danced  together, — the  time  I  told  you  of, — and  I 
saw  him  several  times,  he  and  his  mother.  I  thought 
her  wonderful,  a  woman  whose  esteem  I  should  love 
to  have,  she  seemed  so  just  and  above  small  things; 
I  felt  almost  afraid  of  her,  and  I  liked  him  very 
much.  I  was  a  little  girl  from  the  country,  but  he 
never  made  me  feel  it ;  he  was  very  nice  to  me,  and  I 
never  forgot  him. 

"He  knew  the  Colonel  and  came  to  stay  with  him. 
It  was  the  greatest  surprise  I  ever  had  in  my  life,  and 
that  made  me  forget  at  first.  He  was  one  of  our 
people,  his  family  belonged  among  us,  and  mother  and 
Mrs.  Estiss  liked  him.  I  forgot  everything.  I  wanted 

so  much  to  be  happy — for  a  little  while "    She 

paused  on  the  wistful  note,  and  Yarek  moved  rest- 

255 


The  Winning  Chance 

lessly.  "I  should  have  told  you,  but  it  seemed  no 
harm,  and  I  never  dreamed  of  the  things  that  fol- 
lowed. I  knew  you  would  object,  and  take  my  com- 
panion from  me,  and  when  I  realized,  it  was  too  late. 
"We  rode  together  and  walked  together.  He  was 
young  like  me — and  happy.  We  loved  the  same  things ; 
I  never  had  any  regular  schooling,  but  we  had  read 
the  same  things,  and  I  could  remember  even  better 
than  he;  for  the  first  time  since  I  was  just  a  little 
girl  I  was  really  and  truly  happy."  The  slow  color 
crept  into  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  lost  their  dulness. 
"I  know  now  that  I  loved  him  all  the  time,  when  I 
thought  we  were  friends,  and  that  almost  from  the 
beginning  he  cared  for  me.  I  could  make  him 
wretched  or  happy  with  a  word,  and  still  I  did  not 
understand.  Then  when  it  did  come  to  me  that  he 
loved  me,  I  was  glad.  I  shut  my  eyes  to  everything 
else.  I  would  not  think — I  didn't  read  your  letters — 
I  talked  to  mother,  and  I  didn't  know  what  I  said. 
One  day  I  would  walk  with  him  and  another  I  would 
not — I  made  him  furious  and  happy;  in  the  end  I 
knew  he  would  make  me  listen  to  him,  but  I  was 
walking  in  a  dream  all  day  long,  and  I  was  doing 
him  a  dreadful  wrong.  Afterwards  I  wondered,  I 
have  wondered  ever  since  how  I  could  have  done  it. — 
'I  will  be  happy,'  I  said,  CI  will,  I  will.'  It  was  my 
own  selfish  passion;  I  would  think  of  no  one  else — • 

and  I  paid  for  it "     The  slight  animation  that  had 

256 


The  Truth 

lighted  her  face  died  out.  "Then  he  made  me  hear 
him,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "and  he  asked  me  if 
I  loved  him,  and  he "  She  stopped. 

"Go  on,"  said  Yarek  through  his  teeth. 

"He  kissed  me,  and  I — we  kissed  each  other;  he 
did  not  need  to  ask  me  any  more  if  I  cared — he  knew 
then."  She  was  silent  for  a  little  and  the  man  be- 
side her  breathed  heavily.  Then  she  went  on:  "He 
told  me  about  the  home  he  would  take  me  to,  about 
his  mother,  how  proud  he  would  be  of  me,  of  his 
work,  and  how  I  would  inspire  him,  and  I  began  to 
feel  cold  all  over.  Even  as  I  sat  there  beside  him,  I 
could  not  drive  away  the  terrible  thoughts.  They 
went  down  the  hill  with  me,  and  came  into  my  room, 
and  were  locked  in  there  with  me,  for  hours  and 
hours,  and  all  night. — I  did  not  say  'I  will  be  happy,' 
again. — I  had  deceived  him,  abominably ;  I  could  never 
go  to  his  home,  or  stand  before  his  mother,  I  was  not 
fit.  I  had  wanted  him  to  care  for  me;  I  had  broken 
faith  with  you,  I  who  had  felt  so  sure  of  what  was 
right  and  wrong!"  She  stopped  again,  and  put  her 
hands  to  her  head.  "Oh!"  she  said,  "that  night — 
and  those  next  days!  It  was  only  the  thought  of 

mother  that  kept  me  alive "  She  pulled  her 

hands  down,  staring  into  his  drawn  face.  "Leo,  I 
cannot  go  on — I  can  only  tell  you  the  main  things.  I 
told  him  I  could  not  marry  him — that  I  did  not  wish 
to ;  I  would  not  see  him  or  talk  to  him  if  I  could  help 
17  257 


The  Winning  Chance 

it — and  I — at  last  I  begged  him  to  go  away.  He 
couldn't  understand  me,  and  no  wonder,  for  there  was 
one  thing  he  was  sure  of  and  that  was  that  I  loved 
him.  I  could  not  deny  it — it  was  true,  and  I  could 
give  him  no  reason  for  my  conduct.  Leo,  a  dozen 
times  a  day  I  was  on  the  point  of  going  to  him  and 
letting  everything  else  go.  Oh,  I  understood  then 
about  you,  and  what  it  was  like — and  about  him ! 

"Then  at  last  he  promised  me  to  go — for  I  was 
nearly  wild.  Every  day  I  was  more  and  more  afraid 
of  myself,  and  we  could  not  go  on  living  like  that  in 
the  same  house.  He  promised  me  to  go  that  night.  He 
said  he  would  give  me  time  to  think  of  what  I  was  do- 
ing without  any  apparent  reason,  and  what  it  meant  to 
him.  He  promised,  but  he  asked  me  t6  grant  him  one 
thing,  and  that  was  to  let  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Carson 
take  me  to  the  dance  at  the  hotel  at  Gainsville ;  we  had 
all  planned  to  go  long  before  that.  Perhaps  he 
thought  I  might  relent  that  night — I  don 't  know — but 
it  was  a  little  thing  to  grant. 

"There  were  people  from  all  around,  the  better 
class,  and  one  party  from  the  Inn  that  drove  over  and 
came  in  late.  Dorsey  and  I  danced  and  I  knew  it 
was  for  the  last  time.  He  had  told  the  Colonel  that 
he  was  going,  and  they  thought  it  was  because  we  had 
quarrelled,  but  they  saw  us  dance  again  and  again. 
I  saw  nobody — I  know  I  danced  with  others,  but  it  was 
a  blank  to  me — everything  but  his  face.  Then  two 

258 


people  passed  close  by  and  looked  hard  at  me  and  I 
recognized  them;  they  were  the  couple  who  came  to 
the  place  up  in  the  mountains,  where  we  were  to- 
gether, before  you  came  away.  They  stood  by  one  of 
the  windows  talking.  I  told  Mrs.  Carson  I  wanted  to 
go,  and  she  said  she  was  ready. — Then  Dorsey  came 
in  and  he  looked  strangely  at  me.  He  asked  me  to 
come  outside  for  a  moment,  and  he  spoke  to  the 
Colonel — I  thought  he  was  asking  him  to  wait  for  me 
while  he  said  good-by.  I  felt  sick  all  over — I  had 
begged  him  to  go  and  now  he  was  leaving  me.  It  was 
somewhere  up  back  of  the  hotel  to  a  seat  in  the  rocks 
that  he  took  me.  His  face  was  white  and  strange,  and 
his  eyes  frightened  me;  he  took  hold  of  my  arms  and 
I  shook  in  his  hands.  'Tell  me  it's  not  true!'  he  said, 
'what  I  overheard  those  people  say — that  you  are  mar- 
ried. They  called  you  a  bride.  You  stayed  where 
they  did,  they  said.  Is  that  your  reason  and  the 
secret  that  you  have  kept  from  every  one? — For  God's 
sake,  tell  me  the  truth,  and  stop  treating  me  like  a 
dog!'  .  .  .  What  could  I  say? — My  shame  had 
found  me  out.  Those  that  do  wrong  suffer  for  it,  I 
believe  they  do — always.  His  respect  for  me  was 
gone,  and  he  spoke  to  me  as  he  had  never  thought  of 
doing  before.  He  told  me  plainly  that  I  had  done  my 
best  to  ruin  his  life,  and  that  when  things  had  gone 
too  far  I  was  only  anxious  to  get  him  away — and  he 
had  thought  me  too  good  for  any  man.  He  laughed 

259 


The  Winning  Chance 

and  talked  wildly,  and  I  sat  and  thought.  He  didn't 
know  what  he  was  saying,  and,  Leo,  I  wasn't  angry— 
I  was  so  sorry  for  him.  I  had  done  that — I  had  made 
it  possible  for  a  good  man,  for  he  is  that,  to  think 
such  things."  She  stopped,  her  lips  quivering,  and 
looked  down  at  Varek's  big  hand  that  had  grasped 
a  fold  of  her  dress.  The  knuckles  looked  blue. 

"I  made  up  my  mind  then  to  tell  him  the  truth. 
He  would  feel  such  a  disgust  for  me  he  would  leave 
me  and  save  himself;  it  was  only  my  shame  that  had 
kept  me  from  doing  it  before.  There  would  be  no 
question  then — it  would  all  be  over.  ...  I  told 
him  the  whole  truth  about  you  and  me — I  did  not 
mean  to  make  any  plea  for  myself — I  tried  to  be  just. 
He  was  as  still  as  if  he  were  stone,  and  then  he  said 
quite  quietly,  'It  is  not  true,'  and  I  said,  'It  is.' 
Then  he  stood  up  and  said  in  just  the  same  way,  'I 
will  kill  him  then.'  "  Varek  threw  back  his  head 
with  a  fierce  gesture,  but  she  went  on  without  heeding 
him.  "I  told  him  I  was  going  back  to  the  hotel — 
he  had  not  offered  to  say  good-by  to  me.  Nearly 
every  one  had  gone,  for  it  was  dreadfully  late. 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Carson  had  gone  too,  and  Dorsey 
said  he  was  going  to  drive  me  home,  that  he  had  told 
the  Colonel  so.  'You  promised  to  go  away,'  I  said, 
and  he  told  me  he  had  meant  to  go  until  he  heard 
those  people  talk. 

"There  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  go.    I 

260 


The  Truth 

could  not  stay  there,  and  I  must  think  of  mother.  I 
must  get  home  as  soon  as  I  could.  He  put  me  in  the 
buggy  and  we  drove  without  a  word.  It  was  very 
dark ;  there  had  been  a  moon  earlier,  but  now  it  was 
cloudy  and  the  wind  came  in  puffs,  and  every  now  and 
then  there  was  lightning;  there  was  going  to  be  a 
thunder-storm  and  people  had  hurried  off.  We  had 
to  crawl  along,  and  the  horse  knew  the  road  better 
than  we.  I  thought  of  mother,  but  I  felt  sure  that 
Mrs.  Estiss  would  not  let  her  know  we  had  not  come 
home,  and  when  mother  sleeps  now  it  is  so  heavily. 

' '  We  were  only  a  mile  beyond  Gainsville  when  the 
storm  came.  It  was  wind  and  thunder  and  lightning, 
at  first,  but  we  could  not  go  on.  The  lightning  showed 
a  hay  shed  near  the  road,  and  Dorsey  said  we  would 
have  to  wait  there  until  we  could  go  on.  He  was  not 
angry  with  me,  just  quiet.  He  brought  the  cushions 
and  the  robe,  and  he  made  me  a  place  in  the  hay; 
there  was  just  a  roof  over  us,  and  the  sides  were 
open.  He  wrapped  me  up  in  the  robe  and  sat  by  me, 
and  when  the  lightning  came,  I  could  see  him  just 
sitting  still  and  staring  straight  before  him.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  there  was  a  band  of  iron  around 
my  head  and  it  was  growing  tighter  and  tighter  and 
soon  I  should  scream  out  loud — I  couldn't  hold  it 
back."  She  spoke  her  sentence  jerkily  as  if  out  of 
breath. 

' '  I  don 't  know  how  long  we  were  there,  but  it  was 
261 


The  Winning  Chance 

a  terrible  storm.  The  lightning  came  every  other 
minute,  and  the  rain  started;  the  trees  twisted  and 
the  woods  were  full  of  the  sound  of  breaking  branches. 
At  the  worst  of  it  there  was  suddenly  a  crack,  and  a 
flash  like  white  daylight  that  struck  us  blind,  and  I 
cried  out,  but  he  was  there  and  had  his  arms  around 
me;  I  thought  he  had  been  killed.  It  was  too  much, 
and  I  sobbed  out  loud  and  he  held  me  and  would  not 
let  me  go,  but  talked  to  me  a  long  time.  He  told  me 
that  he  loved  me,  over  and  over  again,  and  that  he 
would  never  let  me  come  back  to  this  life — to  you. 

He  said "    The  first  tears  that  she  had  shed  rose 

in  her  eyes  and  rolled  slowly  down  her  cheeks.  "He 
said  I  was  a — good  woman — in  spite  of  everything 
— as  good  as  his  mother — and,  Leo,  he  meant  it.  He 
said  some  of  the  things  that  you  have  said  sometimes 
when  you  have  wanted  to  convince  me.  He  was  per- 
fectly calm,  as  if  he  had  made  up  his  mind — it  was 
like  heaven  after  that  hour  that  had  gone  before,  and 
I  could  not  say  anything;  what  was  there  to  say? 

' '  He  said  we  should  be  married,  that  no  one  could 
touch  me  or  dare  to  come  near  me  then.  That  he 
would  guard  me  for  the  rest  of  my  life,  and  would 
try  to  make  up  to  me  in  happiness  for  what  I  had 
suffered.  He  had  decided  all  this  in  the  half  of  a 
night,  with  me  sitting  there  beside  him,  but  I  had  had 
days  to  think,  and  I  went  over  it  all  to  him — his 
mother,  those  friends  that  were  such  a  part  of  his  life, 

262 


The  Truth 

and  his  work  in  which  he  had  been  so  successful — my 
story  when  it  was  known  would  ruin  it  all — and  I 
told  him  about  you — that  you  never  let  go  a  thing 
that  you  had  made  up  your  mind  to  have.  ...  It 
was  useless.  I  might  as  well  have  asked  the  wind 
out  there  to  stop,  and  as  he  went  on  I  knew  in  the 
end  that  I  would  go  with  him.  Even  as  I  told  him  all 
those  things,  I  was  agreeing  to  his  arguments,  while 
I  knew  they  were  unsound. 

"He  told  me  his  plan,  and  it  was  simple,  for  it  left 
all  the  trouble  until  afterwards.  He  wanted  me  to 
go  to  Summit  the  next  afternoon,  and  we  would  be 
married,  and  come  back  and  tell  mother ;  that  he  would 
take  charge  of  us  from  that  moment,  and  no  one  had 
any  right  to  interfere  with  us.  He  begged  and 
pleaded  with  me  and  I  said  yes ;  I  knew  I  would  say 
it  and  if  possible  not  keep  my  word. 

"Then  he  made  me  rest  and  walked  up  and  down 
before  me  until  the  rain  stopped.  It  was  wild  still 
but  we  went  on,  I  was  so  anxious  about  mother.  It 
was  gray  light  when  we  got  home  and  Mrs.  Estiss  came 
down  and  let  me  in.  She  asked  where  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Carson  were;  they  had  not  come,  and  she 
thought  we  had  been  together  somewhere  out  of  the 
storm,  and  mother  did  not  know.  They  came  in  a 
little  later ;  they  had  come  as  far  as  the  valley  and  had 
stayed  at  the  Fishers'.  Mrs.  Estiss  brought  me  my 
breakfast,  and  she  knew  that  something  was  very 

263 


The  Winning  Chance 

wrong  with  me.  .  .  .  Leo,  I  am  just  weak — I 
yield  when  I  ought  to  be  strong,  and  I  have  no  ca- 
pacity to  help  myself.  I  have  always  brought  trouble 
to  every  one  that  I  have  known  well;  it  began  with 
mother  and  Paul.  ...  I  could  not  do  what  Dor- 
sey  asked  me  to  do — the  longer  I  thought  the  more 
impossible  it  became.  It  was  because  I  loved  him  so 
much  I  could  not  do  it.  If  I  waited  till  afternoon  I 
was  lost;  if  he  begged  me  I  should  go.  As  I  lay 
on  my  bed  I  made  up  my  mind.  I  took  all  your  letters 
and  burned  them,  and  went  to  Mrs.  Estiss.  I  told  her 
I  must  go  back  to  St.  Louis,  but  that  I  would  come 
back  in  a  short  time;  that  I  should  tell  mother,  and 
all  I  wanted  was  that  she  should  guard  her;  that 
no  matter  what  she  heard  she  must  not  let  it  get  to 
her;  that  if  I  did  not  know  I  should  be  with  mother 
again  in  a  short  time,  I  would  not  go. 

' '  She  knew  that  I  was  only  making  an  excuse,  and 
she  begged  me  to  do  nothing  rash,  but  I  told  her  that 
if  I  stayed  I  should  do  a  thing  I  would  regret  all  my 
life.  I  don't  know  how  much  she  suspected,  but  she 
at  last  promised  me  about  mother,  solemnly,  and  she 
helped  me.  I  wrote  a  note  to  Dorsey — I  told  him 
that  I  could  not  keep  my  promise,  that  so  long  as  I 
had  my  senses  I  could  not  do  him  that  wrong.  I  said 
that  I  was  coming  to  you.  That  you  should  keep  your 
word  to  me,  that  in  spite  of  all  he  might  say  I 
belonged  to  you  to  take  for  your  wife  when  the  time 

264 


The  Truth 

came,  and  I  begged  him,  if  he  loved  me,  to  forget 
me ; — that  it  was  the  kindest  thing  he  could  do  for  me 
and  for  himself.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Estiss  was  to  see  that 
he  received  it.  Then  there  was  mother,  and  I  had 
to  lie  to  her  as  always,  and  pretend  about  Miss  Gran- 
tham ;  with  my  heart  breaking,  I  had  to  laugh  and  pre- 
tend, and  lie  to  my  mother — up  to  the  end.  But  I 
left  her  well  and  not  worrying — poor  little  mother!" 
Varek  moved  again  restlessly. 

"I  stole  off  to  the  Fishers'  and  made  Stubby  drive 
me  to  Summit.  He  looked  frightened  at  my  face,  and 
he  said  he  would  do  anything  I  asked  him  to  do, 
that  he  would  shoot  a  man  down  if  I  told  him  to. 
I  don't  know  what  he  thought,  but  he  meant  Dorsey, 
and  I  told  him  that  if  anything  happened  to  him  it 
would  kill  me ;  that  he  was  the  best  friend  I  had.  I 
must  have  frightened  him,  for  he  could  not  speak,  and 
he  grew  white  when  I  said  good-by.  As  long  as  I 
looked  out  he  stood  on  the  platform.  It  was  fearfully 
hot  all  the  way,  and  I  missed  my  train  at  Nashville, 
and  it  made  me  twelve  hours  late,  but  at  last  I  got 
here."  She  had  gone  on  hurriedly  toward  the  end 
and  then  was  silent,  and  he  sat  still  before  her,  his 
face  gray,  his  eyes  on  the  floor.  After  a  while  she 
reached  out  her  hand  and  laid  it  on  his  shoulder,  hesi- 
tatingly. "I  didn't  see  what  I  could  do,  Leo,  but 
come  to  you.  I  cannot  struggle  any  more  over  any- 
thing, and  I  know  you  will  keep  your  promise  to  me, 

265 


The  Winning  Chance 

for  now  you  love  me  better  than  yourself — it  has  taken 
you  a  long  time  to  come  to  it,  but  it  is  so,  and  I  was 
not  afraid  to  come  back  here,  Leo,  not  for  a  moment. 
I  knew  you  would  never  ask  me  to  live  that  life  again 
— your  letters  this  summer  taught  me  that — and  now 
I  trust  you — I  never  did  before.  I  have  told  you 
everything,  and  you  can  judge  for  the  future,  whether 
you  still  want  me  for  your  wife  or  not.  I  am  in  your 
hands,  and  it  is  for  you  to  choose.  Only  one  thing 
I  beg  of  you,  for  the  sake  of  the  past — that  you  will 
not  let  mother  suffer;  that  no  matter  what  comes  to 
me,  you  will  care  for  mother  ? — Leo,  look  at  me ! " 

He  raised  his  haggard  eyes  and  looked  into  hers, 
that  were  as  dull  with  trouble.  A  line  of  moisture 
had  gathered  on  her  lip,  and  she  swayed,  her  eyes  clos- 
ing, and  Varek  put  his  arms  about  her,  his  touch  and 
voice  gentle.  "Do  you  need  to  ask  me?"  he  said. 
"You  shall  have  anything  for  your  mother  that  I  can 
do — only  try  to  get  a  little  strength  yourself.  I — 
I've  got  to  have  time  to  think." 

She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  he  asked,  "Can  you 
sleep?" 

"I  feel  as  if  I  could  never  lift  my  eyelids  again," 
she  said.  "I  could  not  sleep  those  nights  on  the 
train." 

"You  must  try  and  rest  now,"  he  said.  He  held 
her  for  a  time  against  his  breast,  his  trembling  lips 
on  her  hair,  and  his  eyelids  slowly  reddening;  then 

266 


The  Truth 

he  laid  her  back  on  the  pillows,  arranging  them  for  her 
comfort.  " Try  to  sleep  now,  little  one, "  he  said.  "I 
will  sit  here  by  you."  He  went  to  the  raised  blind 
and  drew  it  down,  and  coming  back  to  her  side 
watched  her  pallid  face  until  he  was  sure  she  slept. 
He  looked  upon  his  first  defeat,  and  it  seemed  the  end 
of  all  things  to  him.  He  could  think  only  fitfully  of 
the  future,  what  he  had  endured  during  the  last  hour 
had  dulled  all  power  of  connected  thought,  and  yet 
there  was  urgent  necessity;  how  was  he  to  spare  her 
what  was  to  come?  He  could  not  look  in  her  face 
and  collect  himself.  He  rose  softly  and  went  down  to 
the  black  woman.  ' '  Watch  her, ' '  he  said, ' '  and  don't 
let  anything  wake  her.  I  must  go  down  the  hill  for 
a  while."  He  descended  the  steps  to  the  road  and 
made  the  turn  to  the  right  along  the  bluff ;  if  he  could 
get  away  from  the  house,  and  the  influence  of  its 
memories,  possibly  he  could  think. 


IV. 

THE  SHATTERED  MIRROR 

"No,  suh,  she  can't  see  yo'  nohow!"  Dinah  re- 
iterated. No  one  had  ever  called  to  see  Janet  before, 
and  the  woman  had  been  so  surprised  at  the  demand 
of  the  young  man  at  the  door,  that  she  had  owned  to 
her  mistress  being  at  home.  But  Varek's  command 
was  remembered  in  time. 

"Why  not?"  the  young  man  said  sharply.  His 
prominent  blue  eyes  lighted  with  contempt  of  the 
black  woman,  and  his  thin  lips  curled  in  a  disagree- 
able expression.  There  was  something  so  unpleasant 
in  his  whole  personality  that  one  involuntarily  glanced 
him  over  with  the  certainty  of  finding  some  defor- 
mity ;  he  was  undersized,  and  his  body  was  somewhat 
disproportionately  long  for  his  legs,  but  it  was  not 
that  that  gave  the  impression.  It  was  his  face,  really ; 
the  high  blue-veined  forehead,  and  unwholesome  color, 
and  the  unusual  expression  in  his  eyes. 

Dinah  did  not  like  the  look  of  him.  ' '  She  am  clean 
tired  out,"  she  said  shortly,  "an'  sleepin',"  and  she 
proceeded  to  shut  the  door,  but  the  young  man  was 
too  quick  for  her,  and,  not  hesitating  to  push  her 
aside,  he  stepped  in. 

"Go  and  tell  her  that  there  is  some  one  here  to  see 

268 


The  Shattered  Mirror 

her ! "  he  commanded,  in  his  high  thin  tones.  It  was  a 
carrying  voice  and  it  reached  Janet.  She  knew  it  well 
and  she  was  up  and  on  the  stairs  in  a  minute.  She 
was  still  in  her  lace-covered  wrapper,  and  sleep  had 
brought  two  spots  of  color  to  her  cheeks,  and  a 
feverish  brilliancy  to  her  large  eyes.  Her  hair  was 
loosened  and  fell  low  on  her  neck;  she  looked  exotic 
against  the  dark  wood  of  the  stairway. 

"Paul!"  she  exclaimed  in  amazement,  "I  thought 
you  were  in  Colorado."  She  came  on  down,  anxiety 
growing  in  her  face. 

"Doubtless,"  he  said.  "And  you  would  be  better 
pleased  if  I  had  remained  there. "  It  was  the  old  tone 
of  hostility,  only  intensified.  Janet  hardly  knew  how 
to  approach  him,  and  he  paid  no  attention  to  her 
outstretched  hand. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  she  asked  then  in  pur- 
suance of  the  old  plan  of  ignoring  his  moods.  "And 
Dinah  will  bring  you  something;  it  is  so  hot."  She 
smiled  at  him  doubtfully.  "It  seems  good  to  see  you 
again. ' ' 

He  looked  her  over  from  head  to  foot,  a  cruel 
look.  "  So, "  he  said,  "  it 's  true  what  I  suspected,  and 
you  are  his  mistress.  Well,  you  look  it." 

She  had  turned  and  bent  a  little  to  draw  a  chair 
toward  him,  but  at  his  words  she  came  upright  with  a 
quick  indrawn  breath  of  pain.  They  stared  a  moment 
at  each  other.  "You  thought  you  were  clever,  you 

269 


The  Winning  Chance 

two,  and  you  would  get  me  safely  out  of  the  way," 
there  was  a  note  of  concentrated  malevolence  in  his 
words  that  was  sickening,  "but  I  can  bide  my  time 
when  I  want  to,  and  now  I'll  have  the  law  on  you 
two."  His  voice  rose  higher.  "You  thought,  be- 
tween you,  you  could  take  my  share,  did  you?"  and 
then  lowering  into  contempt,  "A  pretty  specimen,  you, 
for  a  Carew!" 

"Oh,  don't!"  cried  the  girl,  quivering  and  shrink- 
ing before  him.  "Paul,  it  was  for  you  and  mother. 
It  was  the  only  thing  I  could  think  of  to  save  us ! " 

"Very  well,"  he  returned  scornfully,  "give  me  my 
share  then,  and  the  half  of  mother's;  it  belongs  to 
me  now  that  she  is  dead." 

"What  did  you  say  then?"  the  tone  was  curiously 
low,  and  her  eyes  dilated  strangely;  she  stretched 
her  neck  as  if  to  listen. 

"I  say  my  share " 

"About  mother — that  last?"  Her  manner  was  so 
peculiar  that  it  struck  even  through  his  self- 
absorption. 

"That  mother  is  dead,  didn't  you  know  it?"  he 
spoke  grudgingly. 

Her  face  set  like  a  mask  with  starting  eyes.  "It 
is  not  true.  I  saw  her  well,  three  days  ago. " 

"I  saw  her  too;  I  just  came  from  there.  I  tell 
you,  mother  is  dead ! ' '  his  voice  rose. 

She  stood  still  staring  as  if  turned  to  stone,  till 
270 


The  Shattered  Mirror 

the  thought  struck  her  like  a  blow  in  the  face;  like 
a  blow  on  a  polished  mirror,  it  struck  and  shivered 
the  set  mask  into  a  thousand  radiating  lines,  a  network 
of  twitching  muscles.  She  turned  and  flung  her 
hands  to  her  head,  and  clasped  it.  "You  told  her," 
she  said,  without  a  trace  of  modulation  in  tone,  "you 
told  her  about  me  and  you  killed  her,"  and  the  cry 
of  agony  rang  out  high  and  shrill, — "Mother! 
mother ! ' ' 

It  reached  Dinah  upstairs,  and  Sam  in  the  gar- 
den, and  it  came  again  and  again.  The  black  woman, 
crying  out  in  answer  to  its  piercing  misery,  came 
stumbling  downstairs,  but  she  was  flung  out  of  the 
way  of  the  maddened  creature.  Footsteps  rushed 
across  the  floor  above  them,  and  something  crashed 
down  with  a  terrific  noise  of  splintering  glass.  A  door 
closed  with  a  sound  that  shook  the  whole  house,  and 
then  there  was  only  a  dull,  continued  beating  on 
the  floor  above  their  heads,  and  a  regular  moaning 
like  an  animal  in  pain. 

They  listened,  the  three  of  them  in  terror,  and  Sam 
crept  behind  the  woman.  Paul  had  shrunk  and  cow- 
ered at  her  wild  cries,  and  now  he  dragged  himself 
up  to  the  black  woman ;  he  looked  dwarfed  and  evil. 

"Go  upstairs,"  he  said,  his  high  voice  breaking. 
"Pound  on  the  door  and  make  her  listen.  Say  that 
I  did  not  tell  mother :  she  died  before  I  got  there.  Go 
say  those  words  to  her,  'He  did  not  tell  your 

mother.'  " 

271 


The  Winning  Chance 

The  woman  retreated  before  him,  her  eyes  rolling. 
"Yo'  git  outer  here!"  she  said. 

"Go  tell  her  what  I  told  you!" 

The  woman  stepped  back  against  Sam,  and  she 
looked  down.  He  was  still  holding  the  hatchet  he  had 
been  using  in  the  garden,  and  she  snatched  at  it. 
"Git  outer  here!"  she  repeated,  coming  forward. 
"Yo'  git,  befo'  I  splits  yo'  head." 

' '  Go  tell  her, ' '  he  said  again,  moving  back. 

"I  done  see  yo'  go  fust."  She  drove  him  to  the 
door,  and  followed  him  to  the  steps.  "Yo'  walk  along 
mighty  quick,"  she  called  down  to  him,  "else  I  fling 
dis  on  yo'  head."  She  watched  him  off  the  steps 
and  up  the  road,  before  she  went  back  to  the  shaking 
Sam.  "What  is  we  goin'  ter  do  now?"  she  said. 
"Fo'  de  Lord's  sake,  where  am  Mr.  Leo!" 

They  crept  upstairs  and  knelt  at  Janet's  dressing- 
room  door,  and  the  woman  called  to  her  and  pleaded 
to  be  heard,  but  the  beating  noise  and  the  moaning 
never  ceased.  They  were  kneeling  on  piles  of  broken 
glass.  The  long  cheval-glass  in  its  white  enamel  and 
gold  frame  lay  shattered  on  the  rose-colored  carpet; 
it  had  stood  in  her  way. 

They  went  downstairs  and  waited,  and  Dinah  sent 
Sam  to  the  steps.  "Ef  he  comes  yo'  wave  him  ter 
hurry,"  she  commanded,  but  she  had  gone  upstairs 
again  in  vain,  and  the  shadows  had  lengthened  toward 
evening  when  Sam  at  last  called  to  her. 

272 


The  Shattered  Mirror 

Varek  had  the  story  before  he  reached  the  stairs, 
and  they  followed  after  him.  He  stopped  before  her 
door  and  called  twice  to  her  loudly,  but  there  was  no 
answer,  and  he  tore  at  the  lock;  then  putting  his 
shoulder  against  the  door  he  burst  it  in,  the  two 
trembling  blacks  at  his  back. 

The  girl  lay  a  huddled  heap  on  the  floor,  her  face 
in  the  carpet,  and  her  torn  and  disheveled  hair  twisted 
and  streaming  about  her.  Her  outstretched  hand  held 
something  hard  and  she  struck  with  it,  up  and  down 
on  the  floor  monotonously.  Before  Yarek  reached  her 
she  crawled  a  few  feet  always  moaning.  Everything 
within  reach  was  dragged  and  pulled  about;  it  was  a 
scene  in  a  mad-house. 

Varek  lifted  her  and  carried  her  past  the  weeping 
servants.  "Bring  me  some  water  with  ice  in  it,  and 
towels, ' '  he  said  as  he  passed  them,  and  they  hurried 
to  obey  him.  He  took  her  in  to  the  couch  and,  still 
holding  her  in  his  arms,  he  pushed  back  her  damp  and 
matted  hair,  and  looked  in  her  face.  It  was  swollen 
and  distorted  almost  beyond  recognition,  and  her 
glazed  eyes  took  no  notice  of  him,  or  of  anything. 

They  brought  him  the  water,  and  he  wrung  out  the 
towel,  and  wiped  her  face  and  neck,  pulling  away  the 
torn  lace  that  clung  to  it.  He  loosened  her  stiff 
fingers  from  the  heavy  paper-weight  it  clutched,  and 
put  them  into  the  cold  water.  She  shivered  but  gave 
no  other  sign.  If  he  could  only  reach  her  conscious- 
18  273 


The  Winning  Chance 

ness,  and  call  back  a  spark  of  reason  before  it  was 
gone  forever !  He  propped  her  up  against  the  couch, 
and  kneeling,  took  her  by  the  shoulders.  "Come 
here,"  he  said  to  the  colored  woman.  "Tell  her  what 
that  boy  said — shout  it  to  her,  only  make  her  hear ! ' ' 
He  shook  the  girl  almost  roughly,  "Listen,  Peggy,"  he 
commanded.  "Dinah  is  telling  you  about  your 
mother!"  Her  eyes  moved  from  him  to  the  woman, 
an  uncomprehending  stare. 

"Come  closer,"  he  urged  the  woman,  "and  speak 
louder."  Dinah  repeated  again  and  again,  and  a 
flicker  of  something  like  understanding  crept  into 
her  gaze.  Varek  followed  it  up.  He  drew  the  long 
telegram  from  his  pocket  and  spread  it  on  her  knee; 
he  spoke  to  her  as  one  would  to  the  deaf.  "It  is 
from  Mrs.  Estiss,"  he  said,  emphasizing  each  word. 
"See,  I  am  reading  it  to  you, — 'Mrs.  Carew  passed 
away  when  asleep  this  afternoon.  Janet  reaches  St. 
Louis  this  evening.  Give  her  this  message — her 
mother  knew  nothing.  She  was  talking  happily  of 
Janet  just  before  she  fell  asleep,  and  I  was  beside 
her.  She  went  without  pain  or  anxiety,  like  a  child. 
Paul  came  this  evening,  has  left  for  St.  Louis.  Tele- 
graph me  what  to  do.  Take  care  of  her  until  I  come. 
Estiss.'  " 

He  read  it  over  twice,  and  she  bent  gradually  as  if 
she  were  listening,  and  put  her  finger  then  on  the 
words,  pointing  them  out  slowly  and  whispering  them 

274 


The  Shattered  Mirror 

to  herself  like  a  child  with  its  first  lesson.  Varek 
motioned  the  woman  to  his  place  beside  her  and  went 
to  the  telephone.  He  beckoned  Sam  then  to  the  hall. 
"In  half  an  hour,  go  up  to  the  corner  and  watch  for 
a  buggy  with  a  white  horse.  A  colored  boy  will  be 
driving.  It's  the  Doctor;  he  is  an  old  man  with  a 
gray  beard;  show  him  the  way  here." 

When  he  came  back  the  girl's  head  was  on  the 
woman's  shoulder,  and  her  eyes  closed;  every  muscle 
was  relaxed  and  she  breathed  like  one  asleep.  They 
laid  her  down,  and  Varek  fanned  her,  listening  with 
every  nerve  alert  for  the  step  on  the  stairs.  The 
unaccustomed  words  of  prayer  rose  within  him  and 
formed  in  whispers  on  his  lips,  "Lord,  save  her.  Do 
to  me  as  I  deserve,  but,  Lord,  save  her!"  Varek  did 
not  know  that  he  had  spoken ;  prayer  had  formed  no 
part  of  his  creed,  it  was  simply  the  unconscious  cry 
of  a  soul  in  distress,  that  recognizes  its  own  help- 
lessness. 

The  moments  dragged  by  slowly,  and  the  swollen 
lines  of  the  face  on  the  pillow  gradually  faded  into 
pallor,  which  in  its  turn  gave  place  to  a  growing 
crimson  flush.  The  muscles  of  her  face  began  to 
twitch,  and  her  hands  moved  spasmodically.  A  line 
of  white  showed  under  her  lashes,  and  half-formed 
words  escaped  her  lips.  The  old  Doctor  came  at  last, 
and  his  heavy  brows  lifted  ominously  at  the  sight. 
Varek  whispered  him  what  explanation  there  was  to 
give,  there  would  be  more  to  tell  later. 

275 


The  Winning  Chance 

"Shock,"  said  the  old  man,  "yes,  that's  plain 
enough  to  see!"  He  lifted  the  girl's  eyelids,  observ- 
ing closely  the  dilated  pupils;  he  touched  her  wrists, 
and  asked  a  question  or  two,  and  spoke  gravely 
enough  to  the  white-faced  man  beside  him.  "She  is 
very  ill,"  he  said. 

"Can  you  save  her?" 

The  old  man  studied  Varek's  face  from  under 
his  shaggy  brows.  "That  I  cannot  tell  you,"  he 
replied,  "but  I  shall  try — I  would  send  for  Mrs. 
Estiss;  she  knows  her,  and  I  don't  know  any  one  so 
capable  when  it  comes  to  a  fight  like  this. ' ' 


V. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 

THE  scorching  days  and  the  breathless  nights 
passed  slowly  by  in  the  secluded  house  on  the  hill, 
each  freighted  with  its  weight  of  terrible  anxiety. 
Varek  never  left  its  threshold,  Mrs.  Estiss  came  and 
took  her  place  by  the  bedside,  and  the  old  Doctor  spent 
every  moment  he  could  spare  within  its  walls.  The 
three  were  struggling  shoulder  to  shoulder  to  keep 
alight  the  flickering  flame  of  life. 

As  for  Janet,  she  was  wandering  through  a  world 
of  shadows,  hither  and  thither,  without  rest  or  pause, 
except  when  darkness  reached  out  for  her,  seeking  to 
draw  her  so  deep  into  its  encompassing  folds  that 
the  quiet  should  be  forever. 

Varek  had  given  the  Doctor  an  exact  account  of 
Janet's  history,  only  withholding  their  relation  to 
each  other ;  he  would  have  no  right  to  speak  of  that. 
"It's  easier  to  fight  an  enemy  by  daylight  than  in 
the  dark,"  he  said,  "and  the  more  you  know  about 
her,  the  better  you  will  be  able  to  help  her,"  and  the 
old  man  had  nodded.  Mrs.  Estiss  had  talked  freely 
to  the  Doctor,  too;  she  understood  now,  and  her  lips 
came  together  in  a  straight  line  as  she  listened  to  the 
monotonous  flow  of  words  from  the  sick  girl.  As 

277 


The  Winning  Chance 

for  Varek,  she  never  spoke  to  or  looked  at  him  if  she 
could  help  it.  They  cut  off  Janet's  beautiful  long 
hair,  and  she  had  taken  it  to  him  and  laid  it  on  the 
table,  almost  under  his  hand,  and  her  anger  had  some 
satisfaction  at  the  sight  of  his  haggard  look.  "Was 
that  necessary?"  he  had  scarcely  more  than  whis- 
pered, and  she  did  not  answer  him. 

The  Doctor  knew  also,  but  he  was  a  very  wise  old 
man  and  he  had  known  and  heard  many  strange 
things  in  his  almost  forty  years  of  practice,  and 
though  a  scrupulous  man  himself,  had  learned  a 
broad  and  understanding  view  of  life.  He  looked 
curiously  at  the  strong  man  who  grew  perceptibly 
thinner  and  more  gray  as  the  days  passed  and  the 
chance  of  a  winning  fight  grew  less;  being  a  strong 
man  himself,  as  time  went  on  compassion  took  the 
place  of  curiosity.  He  could  not  withhold  it  when 
the  other  would  stand  by  the  girl's  bedside  and  listen 
to  that  one  reiterated  cry,  a  pleading  with  her  lover 
to  come  to  her.  Varek 's  name  never  crossed  her  lips. 
Her  one  absorbing  passion,  the  last  impression  on 
her  over-wrought  brain  before  the  blow  struck  her, 
had  seemingly  driven  out  all  recollection  of  him.  She 
went  back  to  her  childhood  sometimes,  to  her  mother 
and  Paul,  but  it  was  only  to  come  back  to  those  last 
few  weeks,  and  their  happiness  and  separation. 

After  one  of  those  scenes,  the  Doctor  had  consulted 
with  Mrs.  Estiss  and  sought  Varek  in  the  little  book- 

278 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

lined  room  where  he  spent  his  days.  He  found  him 
sitting  as  he  did  by  the  hour,  tipped  back  in  his  chair, 
his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head,  his  eyes  on  the 
river.  He  had  started  alert  to  the  summons  that  he 
had  begun  hourly  to  expect,  but  the  Doctor  held  up 
his  hand. 

"No,  no,"  he  said,  "I  only  want  to  consult  with 
you." 

' 'Well?"  said  Varek. 

' '  The  young  man  for  whom  she  asks  all  the  time — 
if  he  can  be  reached,  I  think  we  ought  to  get  him. 
We  must  leave  nothing  undone,  and  in  that  state  of 
the  brain — well,  I  have  known  strange  things  to 
happen. ' ' 

"You  think  it  might  help  her?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell — at  this  rate  it  is  barely  pos- 
sible she  may  pull  through  physically,  but  mentally — 
I  would  not  answer  for  her  reason.  My  hope  is  in 
her  wonderful  constitution." 

Varek  had  raised  a  paper-cutter  that  lay  before 
him,  and  was  studying  its  carved  handle  while  the 
Doctor  spoke,  and  did  not  look  up  when  the  old  gentle- 
man had  finished.  "I  had  thought  of  it,"  he  said 
quietly.  "I  telegraphed  to  him  when  this  began.  I 
had  to  wait  a  day  until  he  reached  New  York,  but  he 
will  come  now — I  should  think  to-morrow." 

"Good!"  the  Doctor  had  said,  and  it  was  in  him 
to  say  more,  but  the  deep  lines  in  the  half-averted 

279 


The  Winning  Chance 

face  before  him  called  for  reserve,  and  he  went  out 
quietly. 

The  next  day  passed  and  another  hot  night.  Dor- 
sey  did  not  come,  and  the  girl  was  fast  growing 
weaker.  Early  in  the  morning  Varek  came  in  and 
looked  once  at  the  hollow-eyed,  parched  face  on  the 
pillow,  and  went  silently  out;  the  Doctor  came  to- 
wards noon  and  looked  too,  and  made  his  preparations 
to  stay ;  the  medicine  glass  shook  in  Mrs.  Estiss's  hand, 
for  she  had  had  a  woman's  faith  and  it  was  hard  to 
give  up  hope. 

Janet  had  alternated  all  day  between  stupor  and 
delirium,  but  in  her  weakness  her  voice  was  scarcely 
above  a  whisper.  It  was  frightfully  hot,  a  suffocat- 
ing, choking  heat,  under  a  brazen  sky,  cloudless  save 
for  an  edge  of  white  that  showed  in  the  western 
horizon.  "The  people  in  town  slept  by  the  hundred 
on  the  pavements, ' '  the  Doctor  told  Mrs.  Estiss.  "  It 's 

cruel  weather  for  a  well  man,  but  for  her "  They 

had  held  a  consultation  the  day  before,  the  Doctor 
and  the  best  talent  of  the  city,  but  they  had  found 
nothing  to  suggest;  they  could  not  improve  on  his 
treatment. 

The  day  drew  to  a  close  in  a  dull  fiery  sunset,  and 
Mrs.  Estiss  prayed  for  a  cool  breeze,  but  the  puffs 
of  air  that  crept  along  the  bluffs  were  like  the  breath 
from  an  open  furnace.  It  had  grown  so  dark  that 
they  had  turned  on  the  carefully  shaded  light  and 

280 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

the  Doctor  took  his  place  by  the  bedside.  Janet  lay 
still,  scarcely  breathing,  and  Varek  sat  just  outside 
the  door.  Suddenly  he  moved  and  went  to  the  bal- 
cony, listening;  his  head  went  up  and  his  eyes 
gleamed;  there  was  a  sound  on  the  flight  of  steps. 
He  went  in  and  beckoned  to  Mrs.  Estiss,  "He  has 
come, ' '  he  said ;  ' '  go  down, ' '  and  turning  went  to  his 
room  and  locked  the  door. 

The  young  man  below  clung  to  Mrs.  Estiss 's  hand. 
"Am  I  in  time?"  he  asked.  The  perspiration  stood 
in  beads  on  his  white  face,  and  at  her  answer  he 
wiped  it  away  with  a  shaking  hand.  He  looked  ter- 
ribly spent,  and  she  brought  him  cold  water. 

"Try  to  pull  yourself  together,"  she  cautioned; 
"you  will  need  your  strength." 

"I  thought  I  was  too  late — it  was  that,"  he  said, 
and  followed  her  up  and  to  the  bedside.  The  light 
was  dim  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  face  on  the 
pillow  that  he  recognized  but  the  great  wide  eyes. 
She  was  whispering  now,  and  as  he  bent  over  her  he 
caught  his  name  repeated  more  than  once.  The  Doc- 
tor had  made  way  for  him,  and  he  sat,  his  lips  close 
to  her  ear,  and  instinctively  he  answered  her,  calling 
her  name  again  and  again.  She  turned  her  head  rest- 
lessly about,  then  paused  as  if  listening  to  a  whisper 
in  the  far  distance;  the  next  moment  she  had  sunk 
into  stupor. 

The  bed  as  he  leaned  against  it  felt  like  fire,  and 
281 


The  Winning  Chance 

she  was  swallowed  up  in  it;  the  hand  he  touched 
burned  his  lips.  A  faint  breath  of  something  cooler 
was  wafted  from  the  window,  and  there  came  over  him 
a  longing  to  assuage  that  torment  of  heat  that  wrapped 
her  about.  His  act  was  born  of  the  wish,  instinctive, 
without  forethought.  He  reached  in  and,  passing  his 
arms  under  the  wasted  form,  lifted  it  out  and  stood 
upright. 

The  Doctor  sprang  toward  him,  but  Mrs.  Estiss 
held  him  back.  "Leave  him  alone,"  she  whispered. 
"He  may  be  wiser  than  any  of  us." 

Dorsey  held  her  carefully,  and  began  walking  up 
and  down,  as  one  would  with  a  little  sick  child.  Mrs. 
Estiss  came  softly  after  him  and  put  a  light  cover 
over  her,  pinning  it  loosely  together  over  her  feet,  and 
the  young  man  went,  on  walking  slowly  up  and  down, 
back  and  forth,  his  eyes  on  the  face  on  his  arm. 
She  never  stirred  or  breathed  a  word. 

The  Doctor  came  and  walked  with  him  a  few  mo- 
ments, his  fingers  on  her  pulse,  and  then  sat  down 
and  waited.  A  faint  murmur  crept  along  the  face 
of  the  bluffs,  and  a  little  later  a  rush  of  wind  bent 
the  tops  of  the  trees ;  the  stars  were  being  lost  in  the 
gathering  clouds.  Could  it  be  that  it  would  grow 
cooler?  A  feeling  of  hope  rose  in  Mrs.  Estiss  as  she 
sat  motionless.  The  wind  came  again,  more  steadily, 
and  really  cooler,  and  then  a  few  drops  of  rain  fell 
on  the  sill. 

282 


The  Valley  of  the  Shadow 

The  Doctor  got  up  again,  and  touched  Janet's 
hand.  It  was  slightly  moist,  and  something  glis- 
tened on  her  brow.  He  could  have  called  out  in  joy, 
but  he  only  whispered  to  Dorsey,  "Can  you  go  on? 
You  will  save  her!"  The  young  man's  eyes  shone 
in  his  white  face,  and  he  braced  his  numb  arms,  for 
her  slight  weight  had  begun  to  drag  on  him  like  a 
ton,  and  the  pain  that  shot  across  his  shoulders  was 
almost  unbearable.  The  rain  had  begun  to  fall,  first 
in  big  drops,  and  then  in  a  settled  downpour,  and  the 
coolness  helped  him.  He  kept  on  twenty  minutes 
longer,  the  Doctor  now  by  his  side,  but  then  he  knew 
his  arms  would  fall ;  he  staggered  to  the  bedside,  and 
he  could  not  bend,  but  the  Doctor  and  the  nurse 
lifted  her.  They  pushed  him  down  in  the  seat  beside 
her,  and  his  head  sank  to  the  pillow.  " Ach,  Gott 
sei  Dank!"  said  the  Doctor  fervently,  in  the  language 
of  his  childhood,  and  it  translated  itself  in  Dorsey 's 
fading  consciousness. 

It  was  later  that  Mrs.  Estiss  knocked  on  Varek's 
door,  and  he  opened  to  her,  his  face  ghastly  white 
against  the  darkness  behind  him.  She  met  his  look 
and  the  first  pity  she  had  felt  for  him  prompted  her 
words.  ' '  She  will  live, ' '  she  said  simply. 

A  wild  look  crossed  his  face  and  his  hand  sought 
the  door- jamb  for  support;  then  he  moved  to  shut 
himself  in  again,  but  she  said,  "No,  come!  They  are 
both  asleep. "  Mrs.  Estiss  had  her  purpose,  and  noth- 

283 


The  Winning  Chance 

ing  would  deter  her.  He  followed  her  then  and  stood 
within  the  door,  his  eyes  on  them.  Her  dark  head 
was  plain  against  the  pillow,  and  close  to  it  the  lighter 
one ;  even  in  the  dimness  he  could  make  out  the  young 
fellow's  clear-cut  features,  white  in  the  sleep  of  ex- 
haustion. He  stood  long  and  his  breathing  was  the 
only  sound  that  broke  the  stillness — that  and  the  drip 
of  the  water  from  the  roof. 

There  was  that  in  his  look  that  made  the  woman 
follow  him  out,  but  he  spoke  quietly  and  rationally 
to  her.  "I  shall  go,"  he  said,  "to-night.  When  she 
is  well  she  may  ask  for  me — I  will  not  come  before. 
You  must  take  charge  here."  She  started  to  speak, 
but  he  lifted  his  big  shoulders  impatiently  and  went 
on  to  his  room. 


VI. 

A  BUTTERFLY  AND   THE   GRANITE 

MRS.  ESTISS  had  asked  for  Varek  and  been  shown 
into  his  private  office.  She  was  a  little  early,  for  he 
had  not  yet  come  in,  and  she  sat  looking  curiously 
around  the  handsomely  furnished  room.  She  liked  its 
presiding  genius  no  whit  better  than  the  first  day  she 
had  seen  him,  but  in  those  last  weeks  he  had  com- 
pelled her  reluctant  admiration.  He  had  never  come 
near  the  house  on  the  bluff,  and  when  Mrs.  Estiss  had 
seen  him  it  was  purely  in  a  business  way  at  his  office ; 
on  those  occasions  he  never  asked  her  a  question  about 
Janet,  except  those  that  bore  on  her  recovery;  for 
that  he  also  telephoned  daily. 

Mrs.  Estiss  wondered  how  much  he  knew  of  what 
had  passed  since  the  night  he  had  left.  She  guessed 
thai  he  saw  the  Doctor  often,  but  she  knew  that  the 
girl  had  kept  her  own  counsel  with  him  as  she  had 
with  her,  until  that  day. 

Varek  kept  her  waiting  only  a  short  time,  his  keen 
eye  lighting  on  her  with  a  swift  scrutiny  the  moment 
he  entered  the  room,  but  hers  was  not  an  easy  face  to 
read  and  he  gathered  nothing  from  it.  Mrs.  Estiss 
thought,  as  she  met  his  eyes  and  spoke  briefly  to  his 
greeting,  that  he  had  aged  a  year  or  two  even  since 

285 


The  Winning  Chance 

she  had  last  seen  him.  The  gray  was  thick  in  his 
dark  hair  and  mustache,  and  it  struck  her  that  he 
moved  much  more  slowly.  He  looked  to  her  as  a  man 
of  his  age  and  build  might  after  a  severe  illness,  and 
yet  she  knew,  as  every  one  connected  with  Varek  did, 
that  he  was  working  as  he  always  had,  indefatigably. 

"Is  it  anything  important?"  he  asked  her  when 
he  was  seated.  "Any  backset?" 

"No,"  she  said,  "nothing  of  that  kind.  She  has 
been  gaming  steadily,  but  she  has  asked  me  to  give 
you  a  message.  She  wants  to  see  you." 

He  passed  his  hand  quickly  across  his  face,  she 
wondered  if  to  hide  his  expression,  but  his  voice  was 
perfectly  controlled  as  he  asked, ' '  Very  well — when  ? ' ' 

"This  evening." 

"Did  you  explain  to  her  about  their  property," 
he  said,  ' '  at  the  time  I  asked  you  to  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  was  the  first  thing  I  told  her  when  I 
thought  she  was  able  to  grasp  it." 

"That  was  some  time  ago  then?" 

"It  was  before  Dorsey  Carroll  left,"  she  said,  with 
a  flash  of  her  eye.  She  knew  it  was  what  he  wanted 
to  ask. 

He  drew  a  quick  breath,  and  getting  up  with  some 
of  his  old  alertness  unlocked  a  drawer  in  his  secretary 
and  brought  a  paper  back  to  his  seat.  He  unfolded 
it  and  laid  it  partly  on  Mrs.  Estiss's  knee.  It  was  a 
map  marked  off  in  sections,  showing  different  tracts. 

286 


A  Butterfly  and  the  Granite 

He  put  his  finger  on  one  section  outlined  in  dark 
red.  "That  is  their  land,"  he  said.  "You  see  this 
whole  mining  section — and  that?  It  lies  directly  be- 
tween, and  is  very  valuable.  She  knows  nothing  of 
business,  and  you  do,  and  I  want  you  to  judge  of  it. 
You  know  Mrs.  Carew  left  me  as  guardian  for  her 
children,  but  I  want  her  daughter  to  be  perfectly  inde- 
pendent in  her  choice  of  any  one  she  wishes  to  have 
look  after  her  interests.  If  I  remain  her  guardian, 
I  should  like  some  one  appointed  to  act  with  me,  or 
if  Janet  prefers  I  will  withdraw  altogether.  That  is 
one  thing  I  am  asking  you  to  explain  to  her,  and  the 
other  is  this:  they  ought  to  have  their  own  money, 
and  of  course  this  is  bringing  them  in  nothing.  My 
advice  would  be  to  sell  outright  this  little  corner — 
it's  only  the  smallest  bit  of  the  whole — and  the  Elmo 
Company  will  pay  well  for  it.  It  will  bring  them 
enough  to  make  them  perfectly  comfortable,  and  Janet 
will  then  feel  no  dependence  on  any  one.  The  rest 
of  this  property,  managed  right,  will  make  them  rich. 
Please  take  this  map  to  her  and  explain  fully  all  I 
have  told  you  now  and  in  our  interview  before.  What 
I  have  wanted  her  to  feel,  is  that  she  has  no  pecuniary 
obligation  to  any  one." 

Mrs.  Estiss  thought  for  a  little.  "How  about  the 
boy?"  she  said. 

"Paul?"  Varek's  face  darkened.  "Mrs.  Carew 's 
will  was  a  wise  one,  and  I  don't  hesitate  to  say  that 

287 


The  Winning  Chance 

I  advised  her.  He  can't  touch  a  penny  of  the  prin- 
cipal until  he  is  twenty-five,  and  then  only  under  con- 
ditions. He  has  a  monthly  allowance,  no  more,  and 
as  long  as  I  am  his  guardian  I  keep  my  eye  on  him. ' ' 

"He  is  still  here,  is  he?"  Mrs.  Estiss  asked. 
"Janet  will  want  to  know." 

"Yes,  and  likely  to  stay — I  think  he  has  found  his 
vocation  at  last."  Varek's  lip  lifted,  and  his  tone 
was  cutting.  "He  is  a  full-fledged  healer  now." 

"A  healer!"  said  the  woman,  puzzled. 

Yarek  laughed  shortly.  ""Well,  according  to  his 
own  account  he  'descended  into  hell'  a  few  weeks  ago, 
and  certainly  judging  from  the  way  he  spent  his  time 
he  is  quite  correct.  Having  sufficiently  disported  him- 
self with  the  devil,  he  fell  ill  and  was  nursed  by  a 
magnetic  gentleman  with  a  white  beard  and  many 
disciples,  principally  females.  This  man  heals  by  the 
laying  on  of  hands,  and  the  method  appealed  to  the 
peculiar  temperament  of  our  Paul,  and  he  began  rap- 
idly to  '  ascend  unto  heaven. ' 

"He  is  now  an  active  convert,  and  his  enthusiasm 
is  touching.  I  had  heard  something  of  all  this,  so 
I  went  last  night  to  hear  him  preach.  It  would  have 
done  your  soul  good  to  have  heard  his  characterization 
of  sin,  and  certainly  some  of  his  personal  experiences, 
which  he  chose  to  impart  to  us,  bore  upon  the  subject. 
He  seems  to  be  blissfully  happy,  a  sound  believer  in 
apostolic  living,  and  as  long  as  his  monthly  stipend  is 

288 


A  Butterfly  and  the  Granite 

as  regular  and  ample  as  it  is,  the  holy  man  whose 
humble  follower  he  is  will  guard  him  as  the  apple  of 
his  eye." 

"He  is  insane,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Estiss. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  Varek  returned.  "Where 
are  you  going  to  draw  the  line?"  His  eyes  dropped 
to  the  floor  and  he  tapped  abstractedly  on  the  desk. 
"All  summer  I  have  been  trying  to  explain  a  charac- 
ter by  that  method;  it's  a  convenient  one  but  too 
elastic.  It's  like  attempting  to  account  for  one's  sins 
on  the  ground  of  heredity,  and  is  neither  convincing 
nor  comforting,  particularly  if  one  is  given  too  con- 
stant an  object  lesson.  Poor  Paul  can  have  the  bene- 
fit of  that  excuse,  I  suppose,  if  it  can  be  considered 
as  such.  It  served  my  purpose  once  and  I'd  do  well 
not  to  sneer!"  and  his  face  twitched. 

Mrs.  Estiss  sat  wondering  what  he  meant,  but  he 
shrugged  away  the  subject,  and  looked  up.  ' '  Is  there 
anything  else?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  said  shortly,  "there  is." 

Varek  knew  perfectly  well  how  she  regarded  him 
and  her  tone  amused  him  slightly.  He  smiled  at  her 
with  his  eyes  as  well  as  his  lips,  his  pleasantest  expres- 
sion. ' '  Well, ' '  he  said,  ' '  out  with  it ! " 

She  hesitated,  plainly  both  reluctant  and  disap- 
proving. There  was  indignation,  too,  that  brought  a 
tremor  to  her  usually  collected  tones.  "I  am  the 
bearer  of  two  messages  from  Janet  to  you,  Mr. 
19  289 


The  Winning  Chance 

Varek,"  she  said,  "but  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
I  did  everything  in  my  power  to  dissuade  her  from 
both  her  decisions ;  I  was  unsuccessful,  or  I  would  not 
be  here.  I  could  not  refuse  to  act  as  her  messenger, 
I  did  not  think  it  was  wise  to  do  so — she  is  strangely 
determined  when  she  wishes  to  be.  It  was  unneces- 
sary, all  that  about  the  property ;  I  listened  to  you  for 
my  own  benefit,  and  that  in  the  future  I  might  know 
better  how  to  help  her.  She  asks  me  to  say  that  she 
places  her  property  in  your  hands  absolutely,  to  man- 
age as  you  think  best  for  her.  She  is  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  her  mother's  will,  and  wishes  you  to  use 
your  best  judgment  in  regard  to  Paul. ' '  As  she  spoke 
Varek 's  face  changed  entirely;  his  smile  had  faded, 
but  the  look  that  took  its  place  was  full  of  restrained 
emotion  that  softened  every  hard  line.  "That  is  like 
her,"  he  said  gently. 

Mrs.  Estiss  forced  herself  to  go  on.  "She  also 
asked  me  to  tell  you  that  she  had  positively  refused 
to  marry  Dorsey  Carroll,  and  that  so  far  as  she  is 
concerned  it  is  final — and  she  wants  to  see  you." 

A  flash  of  vivid  expression  lighted  Varek 's  face 
and  flooded  it  with  a  surge  of  color.  A  man  who  has 
waited  for  days  in  sight  of  the  gallows  and  suddenly 
has  a  free  pardon  thrust  upon  him  might  look  like 
that.  It  altered  nothing  to  him  in  the  end,  but  he 
was  human  and  for  a  few  moments  reveled  in  his  pos- 
sibility, heedless  of  Mrs.  Estiss 's  presence.  Then 
gradually  he  took  on  the  expressionless  quiet  that  his 

290 


A  Butterfly  and  the  Granite 

competitors  in  the  financial  world  knew  well.  He 
looked  up  finally  and  met  Mrs.  Estiss's  blazing  eyes 
indifferently.  "Thank  you,"  he  said.  "I  imagine 
that  wasn  't  very  easy  for  you. ' ' 

"You  are  right,  it  wasn't!"  she  burst  out.  "A 
woman  has  a  right  to  her  happiness,  and  I  know 
more  than  one  that  has  thrown  it  away  as  she  is 
doing,  out  of  exaggerated  unselfishness.  And  you, 
and  men  like  you,  what  do  you  care,  provided  you 
profit  by  it ! "  The  woman  had  risen  in  uncontrollable 
emotion.  ' '  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you, 
and  I  don't  care  what  comes — I " 

Varek  interrupted  her  imperiously.  "You  will 
kindly  control  yourself  instead,"  he  said,  his  eyes 
like  steel.  "You  have  delivered  your  messages,  and 
you  must  receive  my  answer.  After  that  I  give  you 
leave  to  say  what  you  please." 

The  woman  stood,  her  thin,  angular  figure  quiver- 
ing, but  Varek  changed  his  tone.  ' '  Sit  down,  please, " 
he  said  wearily.  "We  have  her  future  to  think  of, 
and  you  will  help  her  best  by  listening  to  me.  As  for 
me,  I'm  a  past  number — let  me  be." 

Mrs.  Estiss  sat  down,  but  it  was  without  any 
diminution  of  her  hostile  attitude;  Varek  seemed  to 
be  lost  in  thought  for  a  time,  and  unconscious  of  her ; 
then  he  said  steadily,  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  "Mrs. 
Estiss,  if  I  go  up  there  to  her  to-night,  she  will  offer 
to  keep  the  promise  she  made  me — she  will  do  it  for 
his  sake  first  of  all,  and  partly  for  mine — and  I  should 

291 


The  Winning  Chance 

take  her.     Just  to  see  her  would  be  too  much  for  me ; 
I  should  plead  for  myself — nothing  would  hinder  me. " 

"Why  do  you  talk  to  me  about  it?"  said  Mrs. 
Estiss  bitterly.  "It's  what  you  intend  to  do." 

"It  is  what  I  do  not  intend  to  do." 

"You  mean  you  won't  go  to  her?" 

"Yes." 

"That  you  will  give  her  up?" 

"Yes." 

"I  can't  believe  it!"  she  spoke  more  to  herself 
than  to  him. 

"From  the  time  I  sent  to  him  to  come  to  her, 
it's  been  my  intention — I  had  time  in  those  fearful 
days  to  make  up  my  mind,  and  I  am  going  to  keep  to 
it.  This  thing  of  her  sending  him  away — it  don't 
mean  anything  in  the  end.  He's  a  man  and  the  right 
sort  and  he'll  only  care  the  more — it  will  work  out  of 

itself — that "    His  head  dropped  lower.     "You 

see  she's  a,  little  like  her  brother,  unlike  as  they  ap- 
pear to  be;  it's  a  devotion  to  some  paramount  idea. 
From  the  time  she  was  a  little  girl  it  was  her  imag- 
ined obligation  to  her  mother  and  Paul,  because  of 
that  accident — she  counted  herself  as  nothing  in  com- 
parison to  their  welfare.  It  was  a  condition  that 
could  be  taken  advantage  of — by  one  who  had  the 
will  to  do  it.  Now  it's  this  boy  she  loves,  and  it  will 
hold  good  for  a  time,  but  I  know  the  outcome  per- 
fectly. ' '  He  lifted  his  head  and  saw  her  amazed  look, 
and  his  lips  twitched  in  a  slight  smile. 

292 


A  Butterfly  and  the  Granite 

"Never  mind,  Mrs.  Estiss,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
blame  you  for  wanting  to  lay  it  on;  you  can't  say  a 
thing  to  me  I  haven't  said  to  myself;  you  may  give 
it  to  me  to  your  heart's  content,  only  for  God's  sake  go 
on  caring  for  her — she  is  so  well  worth  it.  You  think 
you  know  her,  but  you  don't  know  her  as  I  do.  She 
has  a  man's  fair-mindedness  and  a  good  woman's 
honesty ;  she 's  sweet  and  patient,  and  true,  and  in  all 
the  time  I  have  known  her,  I  never  once  have  seen 
her  lose  her  innate  refinement.  She  has  taught  me 
things  I  didn't  know  existed,  and  others  that  I  had 
spent  the  better  part  of  my  life  in  forgetting.  .  .  . 
Now  I  beg  you  to  take  a  message  for  me.  Please  tell 
her  that  it  is  my  earnest  wish  that  she  should  be 
happy,  and  that  I  think  she  will  be  most  so  with 
the  man  she  loves.  That  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  see 
her  or  to  write — she  knows  me  and  will  understand. 
Tell  her  not  to  write  to  me  either;  perhaps  she  will 
once  in  a  while  to  the  Doctor,  for  I  know  she  likes  and 
trusts  him,  and  as  long  as  you  are  with  her  perhaps 
you  will  forgive  me  enough  to  let  me  know  how  she 
is?"  Mrs.  Estiss  made  some  inarticulate  reply,  but 
Varek  seemed  satisfied. 

"Now  about  the  property — I  want  her  to  let  the 
Doctor  act  with  me;  he's  a  sensible  man  and  she's 
bewitched  him,  too.  Then  last  of  all  I  want  to  ask 
her  a  favor.  Some  time  ago  her  old  home  was  for 
sale;  the  man  who  took  it  from  her  father  put  it  on 
the  market  and  I  bought  it ;  I  thought  it  would  please 

293 


The  Winning  Chance 

her  to  have  it.  It  went  for  a  song  and  she  loves  it. 
I  want  her  to  go  back  among  her  people,  and  forget 
as  much  of  the  past  as  she  can — her — lover — can  court 
her — there — by  and  by."  His  face  twitched  con- 
vulsively, and  he  got  up,  walking  away  from  Mrs. 
Estiss  where  she  sat.  A  hot  spot  of  color  showed  in 
her  sallow  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  were  very  bright  as 
they  followed  his  movements,  first  to  one  window, 
then  the  other. 

He  looked  down  on  the  granite  sill  where  Janet 
had  seen  the  scarlet  butterfly  rest  over  a  year  ago, 
his  eyes  unseeing,  when  he  felt  a  touch  on  his  arm ;  he 
had  forgotten  Mrs.  Estiss.  She  choked  a  little;  she 
was  never  gracious  in  manner,  but  under  emotion  she 
was  doubly  brusque.  "I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said, 
"for  the  things  I  have  been  thinking  of  you.  You 
have  it  in  you  to  be  a  really  good  man." 

Varek  looked  at  her  in  amazement  for  a  moment 
and  then  he  broke  into  unsteady  laughter.  "Good 
heavens,  Mrs.  Estiss!"  he  said.  "I've  heard  a  good 
many  adjectives  applied  to  myself,  but  never  that  one. 
Ill  remember  it  when  next  I  feel  the  devil  stirring!" 

But  Mrs.  Estiss  had  something  more  to  say.  "I 
will  stay  with  her  as  long  as  she  needs  me,"  she  said 
positively.  "I  promise  you." 

Varek 's  eyes  lighted  with  pleasure.  "That's 
spoken  like  a  man,"  said  he  warmly.  "Perhaps  you 
will  shake  hands  with  me,"  and  their  hands  met  in 
silence. 

294 


VII. 

THE  BETTER  FIGHT 

IT  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  of  July 
that  Braun  joined  Ehrenstein  at  his  desk  for  a  few 
words  before  leaving  the  office.  Varek  had  just 
passed  them  on  his  way  out,  and  spoken  a  pleasant 
good-night.  "Don't  celebrate  too  hard  to-morrow," 
he  said.  "I  suppose  you  will  do  all  there  is  to  be 
done." 

"You  bet!"  cried  Ehrenstein.  "They  say  some 
of  the  fireworks  will  be  out  of  sight.  You're  going 
to  that  dinner  at  the  club,  ain't  you,  with  the  big 
guns?" 

"Well,  not  if  I  can  help  it!  Of  all  the  nuisances 
they're  the  worst!"  Yarek  shrugged  disgustedly. 

The  young  men  eyed  him  with  undisguised  envy. 
"Gee,  I  wish  I  were  in  your  shoes,"  said  Ehrenstein. 
"I'd  not  turn  up  my  nose  at  the  champagne." 

Yarek  looked  at  them  a  moment,  the  two  keenly 
alive  American  faces,  typical  of  the  street,  alert,  push- 
ing, unsatisfied,  and  his  own  face,  settled  into  somber 
lines.  "Don't  wish  that,"  he  said  heavily.  "I  hap- 
pen to  have  walked  in  them  myself,  so  I  know  what 
I  am  talking  about.  Be  satisfied  with  your  own  shoe 
leather,  and  don't  bother  to  wear  it  out  too  fast, 

295 


The  Winning  Chance 

either. ' '  There  was  a  note  of  deep  earnestness  in  his 
words  that  held  the  attention  of  the  two.  They  had 
never  heard  it  from  him  before.  "You  see,"  he  con- 
tinued awkwardly,  "I've  walked  about  forty  years 
since  I  could  first  remember,  and  I  have  some  years 
the  advantage  of  you  in  travel,  and  I've  just  reached 
a  conclusion  or  two.  It  pays  to  walk  straight,  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  good  walking,  and  to  look  sharp 
to  the  way  you  are  travelling.  You  '11  avoid  trampling 
on  the  other  man  then,  and  be  less  likely  to  be  kicked 
in  return.  You  won 't  be  so  likely  to  run  down  in  the 
heel,  or  fall  on  your  own  nose  either."  He  paused 
in  face  of  the  puzzled  surprise  of  the  two,  and  laughed 
out  as  cover  to  his  embarrassment.  "That's  my 
Fourth  of  July  speech,"  he  said.  "I'll  give  it  to 
them  to-morrow  night ;  think  they  will  like  it  ?  " 

The  two  looked  doubtful  how  to  take  him;  then 
Ehrenstein  saw  it  as  a  joke.  "Say,  it'll  do  fine;  give 
it  to  them  under  the  head  of  'The  Expenditure  of 
Shoe  Leather.'  " 

"Thanks  for  suggestions,"  said  Varek  gravely  as 
he  turned  to  go,  "but  that  wasn't  all  nonsense  I  was 
talking,  though.  You  think  it  over  a  bit." 

"Well!"  said  Ehrenstein,  after  Varek  had  gone, 
"that's  curious,  Braun;  what's  come  over  him, 
anyway?" 

Braun  shook  his  head.  "You  know  some  people 
say  he's  taken  that  divorce  hard.  She  got  it,  you 
know. ' ' 

296 


The  Better  Fight 

"Rot!"  exclaimed  Ehrenstein,  "I  know  better,  so 
do  you.  He  didn't  care  a  cent  for  her." 

"No,  I  don't  think  it's  that,  and  he  is  not  bum- 
ming round,  either.  He 's  at  the Club  you  know, 

lives  there,  and  the  fellows  say  he  keeps  early  hours. 
He  gets  out  of  every  social  thing  he  can  and  even 
cuts  the  stag  dinners;  he  don't  seem  to  care  a  thing 
for  all  this  whirl  that's  on." 

"He  don't  neglect  business,"  said  Ehrenstein. 

' '  I  should  think  not !  You  'd  know  if  you  kept  the 
books.  He  could  wind  things  up  here  in  twenty-four 
hours  if  he  wanted  to,  he's  got  them  in  such  good 
shape. ' ' 

"He's  turned  down  a  lot  of  things  this  winter — 
wouldn't  touch  'em." 

"Well,  he  didn't  need  to,"  said  Braun. 

"But  it  ain't  like  Varek,"  insisted  Ehrenstein. 
"When  did  you  know  him  to  let  up  on  a  thing  if 
there  was  money  in  sight?" 

"You're  right.  Say,  Ehrenstein,  you  know  I  have 
my  theory  about  him,  and  I've  watched  him  for  a 
long  time.  I  think  he 's  a  sick  man — something  really 
wrong  with  him,  and  he  knows  it." 

' '  It  would  explain  a  lot, ' '  said  Ehrenstein  thought- 
fully. 

' '  He  acts  queer ;  now  just  last  night  I  was  out  at 
the  Gardens  with  Miss  Hammersmith" — Braun  spoke 
with  pardonable  pride — "and  we'd  been  round  the 
lagoon  and  were  strolling  back  when  who  should 

297 


The  Winning  Chance 

come  along  but  Varek.  He  was  walking  along  slower 
than  we  were,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
he  passed  us  this  close  and  looked  right  into  our 
faces.  The  lights  were  so  bright  I  knew  him  yards 
away,  but  he  never  saw  us  any  more  than  if  we 
were  air.  He  was  looking  sick  enough  then." 

"What  time  was  that?"  asked  Ehrenstein  quickly. 

"About  ten." 

"Well  I  saw  him  too,  but  it  was  later,  and  I've 
been  thinking  about  it  all  day;  it  was  when  I  came 
away  from  the  Commercial — it  must  have  been  twelve 
or  after.  I  came  out  and  cut  right  across  the  street 
and  was  walking  toward  Olive,  when  I  saw  an  old 
man  on  the  other  side  trying  to  take  in  every  inch  of 
the  sidewalk  he  could.  Oh,  Lord,  but  he  was  drunk! 
It  was  bright  moonlight  and  he  'd  lost  off  his  hat,  and 
I  knew  him  right  away;  it  was  old  Bronson.  You've 
seen  him  like  that — guess  everybody  has — and  I 
stopped  wondering  if  I  ought  to  go  over;  it  looks 
kinder  ugly  to  see  an  old  white-haired  man  in  such  a 
fix.  Well,  I'd  just  started  across  when  I  saw  that 
there  was  a  man  following  him.  He  walked  slow, 
and  stopped  when  the  old  man  did,  and  I  can  tell 
you  I  was  surprised  when  I  saw  it  was  Varek.  I 
didn't  see  any  call  for  me  to  show  myself,  and  I  just 
stepped  back  against  the  electric  light  pole  and  waited. 
Well,  the  old  man  kept  on  making  letter  S's,  and  all 
at  once  he  went  down.  Varek  was  at  him  in  a  flash — 

298 


The  Better  Fight 

you  know  how  quick  he  is — and  lifted  him  up  and 
braced  him  against  the  lamp-post,  and  then  I  guess 
old  Bronson  recognized  him,  for  he  gave  a  squeal 
and  hung  onto  the  post,  striking  out  with  his  fists  at 
Varek  and  calling  out,  'Help!  help!  he'll  kill  me, 
help ! '  He  was  as  hoarse  as  a  frog  but  I  heard  him, 
and  it  made  me  sorter  sick  the  way  he  squealed.  Just 
then  a  Johnnie  turned  out  of  the  alley  above  and  made 
for  them,  and  I  guess  the  old  man  collapsed,  for  he 
was  quiet,  but  Yarek  talked  to  the  cop  and  then  they 
lifted  him  up  and  carried  him  on  to  the  Club." 

"It  isn't  the  first  time  they  have  put  him  to  bed 
there,"  grunted  Braun  in  disgust.  "The  old  sot! — 
I  don't  wonder  his  family  have  gone  to  Europe  and 
are  going  to  stay  there." 

""What  do  you  suppose  the  old  man  yelled  out 
like  that  for,  though?  He  looked  too  drunk  to  know 
anything. ' '  Ehrenstein  had  evidently  been  impressed. 

"How  can  anybody  tell!  He's  probably  so  mud- 
dled he's  crazy."  Braun  spoke  with  contempt.  He 
had  little  compassion  for  the  socially  damned.  "He's 
been  turned  out  of  every  club  in  town  but  the  Com- 
mercial, or  rather  he's  been  so  cold-shouldered  he's 
kept  away. — But  talking  of  Varek — a  friend  told  me 

that  Varek  had  stood  up  for  the  old  man  at  the 

Club  right  along,  and  had  managed  to  keep  him  in 
until  he  went  about  openly  with  that  Travers  woman — 
that  was  too  much  for  anybody.  We  saw  him  last 

299 


The  Winning  Chance 

night  at  the  Gardens  with  another  hard  case  in  tow, 
and  it  wasn't  eight  months  ago  Miss  Hammersmith 
and  I  went  to  that  ball  the  Bronson  girls  gave." 
Braun  sighed. 

"But  I  can't  make  out  why  the  old  man  was  so 
scared  when  he  saw  Varek,"  Ehrenstein  persisted. 
"Now  I'll  tell  you  what  Binny  told  me  in  confidence 
last  winter,  and  of  course  you  won't  repeat  it — he  said 
it  was  Varek  that  loaned  Bronson  the  money  that 
pulled  him  out  of  the  hole  last  winter,  you  know 
when  he  was  in  trouble  over  the  Consolidated  Electric. 
He  did  it  through  Binny,  and  said  he  didn't  want  the 
old  man  to  know,  but  of  course  Binny  told;  then 
what's  he  yelling  out  like  that  at  Varek  for?" 

"I  can't  tell  you,  but  he's  rotten  bad,  that  old 
man,  and  I  'm  sorry  for  the  girls.  He  can 't  last  much 
longer  the  way  he  is  going,  but  they'll  never  have  the 
position  here  they  used  to  have,  and  I  say  it's  a 
shame."  Braun  shook  his  head  with  some  feeling. 
"He's  gone  right  down  since  the  time  the  Morning 
Press  got  after  his  real  estate." 

"He  was  chesty  enough  before  that,"  mused 
Ehrenstein.  "Gee,  I  used  to  feel  like  begging  his 
pardon  for  living.  Just  the  same,  I'm  kinder  sorry 
for  him — it  can't  be  any  fun  for  him  when  he  happens 
to  be  sober." 

"I  suppose  not,"  admitted  Braun,  "but  I've  got 
to  go  or  I'll  be  late  for  dinner." 

300 


The  Better  Fight 

"Me  too!"  said  Ehrenstein,  jumping  up.  "Wish 
you  a  jolly  Fourth,  Braun." 

Varek  had  walked  out  to  his  club,  for  it  was  not 
too  hot,  and  immediately  after  dinner  he  started  off 
to  see  the  Doctor.  It  was  rarely  that  the  old  gentle- 
man was  called  out  early  after  dinner  and  Varek  had 
formed  the  habit  of  dropping  in  upon  him  then.  He 
was  the  only  person  who  knew  anything  about  Varek 
during  that  long  winter  and  spring,  and  the  two  had 
come  to  enjoy  each  other's  society. 

The  Doctor's  thirty  years  of  remunerative  practice 
had  made  almost  no  difference  in  his  way  of  living. 
His  home  life  was  as  simple  as  it  always  had  been. 
There  was  the  same  thrifty,  German  atmosphere,  un- 
changed in  all  those  years.  When  he  lost  his  wife,  his 
sister  came  to  care  for  his  children  and  his  home,  and 
like  the  Doctor's  wife  she  was  a  real  Hausfrau.  It 
took  Varek  back  to  his  early  boyhood ;  he  even  dropped 
back  into  German  speech. 

The  old  gentleman  smoked  execrable  tobacco,  one 
of  his  early  economies  that  clung  to  him  still  in 
spite  of  his  appreciation  of  a  good  cigar.  During 
Varek 's  visits  his  cigar  case  lay  open  between  them 
and  he  would  watch  with  smiling  eyes  the  look  of 
quiet  joy  that  settled  on  the  old  Doctor 's  grizzled  face. 
His  shaggy  eyebrows  would  come  down  until  they 
almost  hid  his  deeply-set  eyes,  and  he  would  sink  a 

301 


The  Winning  Chance 

foot  or  so  into  his  leather  chair.  He  almost  never 
spoke  until  he  had  finished  his  first  cigar,  and  Varek 
knew  enough  not  to  disturb  him.  Then  there  fol- 
lowed the  half  hour  or  so  that  was  Varek 's  greatest 
pleasure;  they  would  talk  of  Janet,  sometimes  only  a 
word  or  two,  and  then  again  the  Doctor  would  mention 
that  he  had  a  letter,  and  it  would  find  its  way  to 
Varek 's  hand  and  later  into  his  inner  pocket,  and 
then  it  was  the  Doctor  that  would  smile  quietly  to 
himself.  Those  letters  never  came  bajck  tp  the  old 
man,  and  he  took  good  care  not  ask  for  them,  but 
they  often  formed  the  topic  of  conversation. 

This  evening  the  Doctor  remarked  that  he  had  had 
two  letters,  and  Varek  looked  an  inquiry.  "One  is 
from  Mrs.  Estiss,"  he  said,  and  there  was  an  under- 
current of  amusement  in  his  voice.  ' '  She  delivers  her 
opinion  of  the  shiftless  ways  about  her  at  some  length, 
and  says  she  does  not  wonder  that  there  are  only  two 
of  the  old  families  left  there,  and  that  the  old  homes 
have  gone  into  other  hands.  It's  a  business  proposi- 
tion she  makes — she  wants  to  work  the  farm  on  shares, 
she  doing  all  the  management.  She  says  she  can 
'make  the  niggers  work,'  " — the  Doctor  laughed 
silently — "and  I  don't  doubt  her  statement.  Janet, 
she  says,  is  willing  if  we  advise  it,  so  there  it  is — the 
best  nurse  I  ever  knew  turned  farmer." 

"Does  Janet  really  want  it,  do  you  think?" 
"Well,  you  can  judge  from  her  letter;  I  am  of  the 

302 


The  Better  Fight 

opinion  that  she  does,  but  you  would  better  read  it." 
The  Doctor  turned  to  his  cigar,  and  Varek  drew  the 
student  lamp  nearer  to  him. 

The  letter  was  a  longer  one  than  usual,  and,  with 
the  almost  abnormal  acuteness  the  long  brooding  on 
one  subject  had  developed, in  him,  he  marked  a  change 
from  her  usual  manner.  She  always  wrote  cheerfully, 
and  apparently  without  reserve,  for  she  had  become 
very  good  friends  with  the  Doctor,  but  this  was  dif- 
ferent. There  was  a  note  of  joy  subdued  but  insistent 
throughout  it  all;  she  wanted  Mrs.  Estiss  to  take 
charge  of  the  place,  there  could  be  no  one  better ;  she 
described  with  delight  her  new  saddle  horse,  and  the 
old  note  of  deference  to  him  was  there.  "Mr.  Varek, 
she  knew,  would  think  Dolly  perfectly  safe."  She 
asked  after  him  as  she  did  in  every  letter  she  wrote, 
but  this  time  she  said  more.  ' '  You  say  he  is  not  look- 
ing well — I  have  thought  over  what  you  wrote.  Try, 
please,  to  persuade  him  to  take  better  care  of  himself 
— and  you  will  not  forget  what  you  promised  me?" — 
Varek  flushed  slowly.  Then  she  went  back  to  her  joy, 
and  at  the  end  it  was  made  plain.  "I  had  a  very 
great  surprise  the  other  day,"  she  wrote.  "Mrs. 
Carroll  came  to  see  me.  She  stayed  a  long  time  and 
she  was  very  charming.  She  has  come  a  number  of 
times  since,  and  we  often  ride  together.  She  rides 
beautifully,  and  is  so  tall  and  handsome,  I  feel  like 
a  little  thing  beside  her ;  I  wish  you  could  see  her,  for 

303 


The  Winning  Chance 

you  couldn  't  help  admiring  her  as  I  do.  She  is  stay- 
ing with  some  relatives,  not  far  from  here,  the  Penriff 
Dorseys,  two  very  old  people,  and  she  says  she  is 
lonely  for  young  people,  so  she  comes  often — I  did  not 
see  how  she  could  like  me,  but  she  is  so  very  nice  to 
me,  and  I  never  have  known  any  one  just  like  her — 
so  wise  and  so  kind,  too." 

Varek  folded  the  letter  carefully,  and  held  it,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  fire.  Then  he  met  the  Doctor's 
understanding  look.  ' '  So,  that  is  the  way  it  will  be, ' ' 
he  said.  "She  will  do  more  for  her  son  in  a  week 
than  he  could  do  for  himself  in  five  years.  His 
mother  has  come  to  his  assistance — a  sensible,  clever 
woman  of  the  world,  I  take  her  to  be,"  and  he  fell 
silent. 

The  Doctor  smoked  his  cigar  to  its  delightful  end, 
and  then  he  asked,  "And  how  much  longer  are  you 
going  on  like  this?" 

Varek  turned  on  him  in  quick  surprise,  but  the 
Doctor  was  never  to  be  hurried.  ' '  I  have  trained  my- 
self to  look  on  a  good  many  things  of  which  I  don't 
approve,"  he  said;  "it's  none  of  my  business.  But 
looking  after  your  health  is,  and  I  don't  propose  to 
let  you  head  straight  for  trouble  and  not  tell  you 
of  it." 

"Well,"  said  Varek,  "what's  wrong?" 

"Everything.  You  are  going  to  have  a  serious 
break-down  as  sure  as  I  am  living." 

304 


The  Better  Fight 

' '  Nonsense ! ' '  said  Varek,  and  he  added  bitterly ; 
"what  difference  does  it  make  any  way?" 

"A  good  deal  to  you,  and  somebody  else.  You 
have  always  been  an  unusually  hard  working  man, 
and  you  have  piled  up  work  on  yourself  while  labor- 
ing under  a  strain,  and  between  the  two  you  are 
going  to  go  down,  and  make  a  nervous  wreck  of  your- 
self. You  have  never  been  ill,  and  you  don't  know 
in  the  least  how  a  strong  man  feels  when  he  is  help- 
less; I  could  predict  what  the  end  would  be  with 
you."  The  old  Doctor  was  very  earnest.  "Be 
warned,"  he  said.  "I  have  seen  too  many  of  your 
type  go  under." 

' '  What  would  you  have  me  do  ? " 

' '  Pull  yourself  together  and  drop  it  all,  your  work 
and  this  place;  go  as  far  away  as  you  can  and  get 
other  interests.  I  believe  you  can,  for  you  are  no 
weakling.  You  love  money  making,  but  drop  it  for  a 
while." 

Varek  had  risen  in  sudden  irritation.  "Money 
making!"  he  said  bitterly;  "I  hate  it! — I  hate  the 
office,  I  hate  every  day  that  passes,  and  all  the  chatter 
I  have  to  listen  to.  I  am  tired  to  death  of  the  kind 
of  men  it  makes — God  as  just  a  word  to  swear  by,  and 
our  great  golden  calf  to  kneel  to! — I've  kept  at  it, 
for  I  don't  know  what  else  to  turn  to;  I  daren't 
stop.  What  do  you  suppose  I'd  do  with  a  whole  day 
of  idleness  on  my  hands?  Talk  about  nerve!  I 
haven 't  enough  to  stock  a  baby  with. ' ' 
20  305 


The  Winning  Chance 

"You're  worse  off  than  I  thought,"  said  the  Doc- 
tor gravely. 

"Perhaps — but  this  much  I  know — I  am  better  off 
working.  I  may  break  down  as  you  say,  but  with 
nothing  to  do — Lord,  I  wouldn't  be  long  settling  the 
question  then!" 

"  H  'm, "  said  the  Doctor,  nodding ;  then  he  sighed. 
"Well,  if  you  persist,  I  shall  probably  have  the 
opportunity  of  keeping  my  promise  to  Janet." 

Varek,  who  was  moving  about  restlessly,  whirled 
round  on  him.  "The  promise  she  speaks  of  in  her 
letter?— What  was  it?" 

"To  send  for  her  if  you  were  ill,  and  I  shall  do 
it.  You  are  too  much  of  a  man  to  let  that  happen, 
or  I've  not  had  a  correct  understanding  of  you  since 
I  have  known  you." 

Varek  looked  at  the  old  man  steadily  for  a  time, 
and  then  he  laughed.  "Thank  you,  Doctor,"  he  said. 
' '  I  realize  that  that  was  your  last  argument,  and  you 
meant  more  than  you  said.  ...  I  am  on  a  burn- 
ing boat,  the  water  under  me  and  the  sky  above,  and 
not  much  help  from  either.  I  must  not  break  down 
and  take  leave  of  my  wits — I  should  ruin  her  happi- 
ness effectually.  I  must  not  make  an  end  of  myself— 
I  confess  it  has  seemed  a  way  out  to  me — for  with 
her  capacity  for  magnifying  her  own  responsibility, 
I  should  be  plunging  her  into  trouble.  It  looks  to  me 
like  '111  be  damned  if  I  do,  I'll  be  damned  if  I  don't, 
and  111  be  damned  if  I  do  or  I  don't.'  ' 

306 


The  Better  Fight 

The  old  Doctor  shook  his  head.  "But  I  don't 
agree  to  that  last  clause,"  he  said,  and  he  smiled  up 
through  his  gray  brows  at  the  tall  man.  "I  have 
an  immense  faith  in  you. ' ' 

He  did  not  get  any  immediate  answer,  but  the 
color  had  flushed  darkly  in  Varek's  face.  He  stood 
for  a  while  and  then  moved  for  his  hat.  ' '  You  see, ' ' 
he  said  rather  thickly,  "I've  always  had  something 
to  fight  for,  some  object  in  view  that  I  thought  worth 
while — but  the  bottom's  dropped  out  of  my  view  of 
life — and — well,  I've  just  been  drifting,  thinking  it 
didn't  matter,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand  to  the 
Doctor. 

"Matter!"  said  the  old  man,  grasping  it.  "Gott 
in  Himmel!  there  never  was  a  time  when  it  mattered 
so  much! — Why,  man,  what  better  can  you  find  to 
fight  for?" 


VIII. 

"HEAVY  TOLL" 

IN  the  next  two  weeks  Varek  electrified  his  many 
acquaintances.  He  closed  out  his  business  and  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  travelling.  He  dealt  hand- 
somely by  Ehrenstein  and  Braun,  but  he  had  given 
Ehrenstein  a  terrible  shock.  "It's  beyond  me!"  he 
said  helplessly  to  every  one  he  met.  "Why  he  was 
making  money  hand  over  fist;  it's  just  beyond  me!" 

Whatever  reason  Varek  had  had  during  the  previ- 
ous winter  and  spring  for  putting  his  house  in  order, 
the  fact  remained  that  he  had  done  so,  and  his  present 
step  meant  very  little  trouble.  The  first  thing  he  took 
up  after  arranging  his  own  affairs  was  the  question  of 
Bronson;  Varek  had  his  own  reasons  for  watching 
over  the  old  man,  and  he  had  done  it  for  months.  The 
day  after  the  scene  that  Ehrenstein  had  witnessed, 
he  had  had  Bronson  taken  to  a  place  where  he  could 
be  cared  for  until  he  was  himself  again,  and  in  return 
Bronson  had  avoided  him  like  the  pestilence;  even 
when  intoxicated  he  seemed  to  be  consumed  with  fear 
of  the  younger  man.  There  appeared  to  be  no  way 
of  approaching  him.  The  old  man  had  brooded  over 
his  fear  until  it  was  an  obsession. 

Varek  had  given  the  matter  much  thought,  and 
308 


"  Heavy  Toll " 

finally  decided  upon  his  course,  should  an  oppor- 
tunity offer.  It  came  sooner  than  he  expected.  He 
had  gone  into  the  Commercial  Club  one  evening  on 
a  business  appointment,  and  by  chance  sat  on  the 
spot  in  the  library  where  he  had  talked  with  Bronson 
almost  two  years  before.  Since  the  night  of  his 
decision,  and  throughout  the  last  two  busy  weeks,  he 
had  felt  a  curious  sense  of  detachment  from  every- 
thing that  had  formed  a  part  of  his  previous  exist- 
ence. The  dulled  perception  of  things  that  had  been 
so  poignantly  present  heretofore  was  a  relief;  it  was 
like  the  sudden  cessation  of  a  throbbing  tooth.  His 
no  longer  seemed  an  active  part.  As  he  sat  now,  that 
scene  with  Bronson  recurred  to  him,  but  it  lacked 
vitality. 

He  had  looked  up  casually  and  caught  sight  of  a 
shambling  figure  making  its  way  through  the  hall, 
and,  as  he  guessed,  to  the  stairway  and  sleeping  rooms 
above.  He  thought  then,  a  moment,  and  decided ;  his 
appointment  was  of  no  particular  importance  and  he 
got  up  quickly  and  followed  after. 

The  floor  above  was  occupied  by  the  sleeping  rooms 
of  the  club,  and  the  man  before  him  had  stopped  at 
one  of  these  doors  and  unlocked  it.  He  moved  less 
uncertainly  than  usual,  and  Varek  was  glad  of  it; 
he  had  wanted  just  such  an  opportunity.  The  man 
had  switched  on  the  lights,  and  crossing  the  room  was 
in  the  act  of  drawing  down  the  shades  when  Varek 

309 


The  Winning  Chance 

stepped  in  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  The  noise 
caught  Bronson's  ear,  and  he  turned.  He  stood  per- 
fectly still  and  the  change  in  him  was  instantaneous, 
and  fearful ;  his  slouching  body  lifted,  his  head  seemed 
to  sink  and  flatten,  the  hanging  flesh  of  his  cheeks 
shoved  up  by  his  collar — a  cobra  poised  to  strike. 
Varek  looked  into  a  blinding  flash  that  drove  him 
against  the  wall  and  the  couch,  the  back  of  which  he 
grasped  for  support ;  there  was  a  hot  needle  prick  in 
his  side,  and  a  sudden  desire  to  sink  down. 

The  smoke  cleared  gradually  and  their  eyes  sought 
each  other,  Bronson  slowly  crouching,  the  pistol  still 
in  his  hand,  and  Varek  hanging  over  the  couch,  limp, 
his  hands  only  having  strength  to  hold.  A  gray 
pallor  crept  from  lip  to  brow,  and  his  eyes  looked 
wearily  across  into  the  bloodshot  ones  that  never 
winked  in  their  terrible  stare.  Then  the  words  formed 
slowly  and  fell  monotonously  from  Varek 's  blanching 
lips — "It's — a — pity — you — did — that.  .  .  .  I — 

I — only  meant  to — help  you "    The  eyes  never 

moved  from  his,  but  there  was  no  comprehension 
dawning  in  the  mottled,  bloated  face,  and  Varek  went 
on  with  an  effort.  "I've  only  wanted  to  do  you  a 
good  turn  all  these  months — I  would  give  a  lot  if  I 
hadn't  mistreated  you — back  at  that  time — but  I 
didn't  know  then.  .  .  .  Come  nearer,  and  don't 
be  afraid — just  listen  to  me  a  little,"  he  spoke  gently, 
persuasively,  but  the  man  before  him  only  glared,  a 

310 


"  Heavy  ToU  " 

meaningless  stare,  and  Varek  sighed  heavily.  "It's 

no  use,"  he  muttered,  "he  couldn't  grasp  it " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  listening.  "Do  you  hear  any 
one?"  he  asked.  A  look  of  something  like  intelli- 
gence had  crossed  Bronson's  face,  and  his  glance  had 
shifted  to  the  closed  door  and  then  came  back  to 
Varek. 

"It's  a  noisy  corner  and  it's  early,"  Varek  said. 
"I'll  tell  you  how  to  get  away  in  a  minute."  His 
voice  had  grown  stronger,  and  his  quick  mind  was 
working.  He  could  do  nothing  with  his  feet,  they 
were  quite  numb,  but  he  reached  out  and,  turning  the 
handle  of  the  door,  opened  it  a  trifle  and  drew  out  the 
key.  He  closed  it  again  and  locked  it  on  the  inside. 
Bronson  crept  forward  at  this  with  a  muttered  protest, 
his  eyes  wild  with  an  added  terror,  but  Varek  stopped 
him.  "Keep  quiet,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "it's 
true  what  I  said — I  mean  well  by  you.  I  intend  to 
get  you  out  of  here  and  nobody  know  it." 

Varek  had  spoken  low  but  clearly,  and  the  trem- 
bling wreck  before  him  seemed  to  comprehend  that  he 
would  be  allowed  to  escape,  but  he  showed  no  sign  of 
having  heard  anything  else  Varek  had  said ;  his  mud- 
dled brain  held  just  a  terrible  fear  that  his  last  act 
had  only  increased.  He  stood  bent  over,  the  loose 
flesh  of  his  face  quivering  and  his  shoulders  jerking 
spasmodically.  Varek  looked  at  him  in  a  pity  that 
drove  out  contempt.  "Brace  up,"  he  said.  "I'm 

311 


The  Winning  Chance 

not  done  for  yet.  Now  listen !  how  did  you  come  up 
here — by  the  elevator  or  the  stairs?"  The  creature 
raised  its  marred  face  and  Varek  made  out,  "The 
stairs." 

"I  hoped  so,"  he  said.  "Now  bring  that  pistol 
here,  and  lay  it  down  just  below  my  hand  on  the 
couch."  The  old  man  moved  guardedly  in  his  direc- 
tion, and  keeping  as  far  as  possible  away  stretched  his 
shaking  arm  and  put  the  pistol  just  out  of  Varek 's 
reach;  his  body  seemed  to  shrink  away  from  the 
injured  man's  neighborhood. 

It  roused  a  sudden  impatience  in  Varek.  There 
was  so  much  to  do  and  he  might  collapse  any  moment. 
"Move  quickly,  can't  you?"  he  exclaimed.  "Don't 
you  see  I  am  going  to  tell  them  it's  an  accident? 
Get  your  wits  together — you'll  need  them.  Now  do 
what  I  tell  you.  Step  out  there  into  the  hall  and  go 
to  the  back  end — there's  a  door  there  into  the  back 
passage.  Shut  it  behind  you,  and  go  down  the  two 
flights  of  stairs — only  take  care  the  servants  are  not 
about.  It  will  bring  you  out  on  the  second  floor,  and 
then  just  take  the  main  stairs  to  the  street.  You'll 
probably  not  meet  a  soul." 

Varek  could  not  gather  if  the  old  man  grasped  his 
directions,  but  he  had  unlocked  the  door  for  him  and 
the  cringing  figure  shrank  out,  its  fascinated  gaze 
still  on  his  own  white  face.  Then  the  door  closed 
softly  and  Varek  was  alone.  .  .  .  His  body  was 

312 


"  Heavy  Toll  " 

entirely  without  sensation,  but  his  brain  was  racing 
along,  the  thoughts  coming  and  going  in  flashes,  things 
long  forgotten,  the  life  of  years  passed  in  a  second's 
review,  followed  in  turn  by  the  urgency  of  the  mo- 
ment. The  flash  of  the  weapon  that  lay  below  his 
hand  had  shown  him  his  way  clear.  It  seemed  to  him 
a  year  of  time  before  he  could  press  the  bell  in  the 
wall  behind  him,  and  then  press  it  again,  and  again. 

They  had  moved  him  to  St.  Luke 's  and  the  Doctor 
with  two  others  had  made  their  examination.  Varek 
had  lost  consciousness  only  for  a  short  time,  and  his 
explanation  of  the  accident  had  been  as  brief  as  pos- 
.sible;  a  simple  statement  that  he  had  been  shot  in  a 
careless  handling  of  his  pistol.  The  public  would 
seize  with  avidity  on  whatever  details  could  be  gath- 
ered elsewhere,  but  Varek  cared  little  what  they 
thought  provided  they  did  not  discover  the  truth. 

It  was  almost  midnight  when  the  Doctor  and  the 
nurse  were  left  in  charge  of  their  patient,  and  Yarek 
had  been  keenly  alive  to  all  that  had  passed.  The 
Doctor  understood  the  impatience  with  which  Varek 
eyed  the  nurse,  and  he  sent  her  from  the  room; 
it  would  be  better  for  the  injured  man  to  say  what 
he  had  on  his  mind;  the  Doctor  knew  that  he  would 
not  take  a  sedative  until  he  had  spoken. 

His  first  words  were  incisive.  "How  long  will 
I  lite — how  many  days  can  I  count  on?" 

313 


The  Winning  Chance 

The  Doctor  knew  why  he  asked  the  question,  and 
answered  him  in  the  fewest  words  possible.  ' '  Several 
days  if  inflammation  sets  in,  a  longer  time  if  it  does 
not.  The  bullet  went  in  through  the  front,  passing 
through  you,  and  cutting  the  spinal  cord.  You  can 
move  nothing  but  your  arms  and  head. ' ' 

' '  I  will  live  long  enough  for  her  to  get  here  ? ' ' 

"I  think  so — there  is  even  a  chance  that  you  may 
live  quite  a  long  time." 

Varek  drew  his  brows  together,  the  old  steel-like 
glint  in  his  eye.  "I  shall  live  long  enough  for  her 
to  reach  me — that's  all  I  want  to  know.  I'll  live  after 
that  only  as  long  as  I  choose."  The  Doctor  thought 
as  he  looked  at  him  that  that  was  quite  likely,  but  he 
made  no  answer,  and  Varek  went  on  more  gently. 
' '  Will  you  please  send  for  her,  Doctor  ?  I  will  dictate 
the  telegram — I  have  left  her  everything  I  possess — I 
have  always  meant  her  to  have  the  money,  and  I  have 
worked  for  months  to  have  everything  in  order  for  her. 
She  can  live  anywhere  in  the  world  she  chooses — it 
will  not  tie  her  to  this  place.  I  shall  ask  her  to  marry 
me,  I  have  thought  it  all  over  and  there  is  no  possible 
harm  it  can  do  her — but  she  shall  judge.  I  had 
thought  I  could  go  without  seeing  her — but  I  can't 
do  it.  Now  write  and  let  me  sleep." 

Leo  Varek  was  passing  fast.  There  was  no  need 
for  him  to  guard  against  a  weary  time  of  lingering. 

314 


"  Heavy  Toll " 

He  had  talked  long  and  fully  to  the  Doctor  of  his 
affairs,  and  had  suffered  little  in  those  days,  but  he 
was  steadily  sinking.  He  knew  the  hour  she  would 
come,  and  lay  with  his  eyes  on  the  door — he  might 
possibly  have  a  day  with  her,  but  more  probably  a 
much  shorter  time. 

His  ears  caught  the  sounds  in  the  outer  room  be- 
fore the  Doctor's  did.  "She  has  come,"  he  said.  The 
Doctor  went  quickly  out,  and  then  there  was  a  pause 
before  it  opened  again. 

The  late  afternoon  sun  fell  in  a  broad  band  of  light 
on  the  threshold,  and  she  stood  a  moment  in  its  radi- 
ance. It  fell  on  the  soft  waves  of  her  hair,  and 
touched  the  curve  of  her  slightly  parted  lips ;  the  blue 
of  her  great  eyes  met  his,  wide  and  deep  in  their 
message  of  pity — and  the  next  moment  his  out- 
stretched arms  had  closed  about  her.  "My  little  girl — 
my  own  little  girl,"  he  whispered — and  again,  and 
again,  "I  have  been  so  hungry  for  you — so  hungry 

and  thirsty Her  hand  stole  up  and  held  his 

lips  to  hers  in  a  long  silence. 

"You  will  marry  me  now,  Peggy,  and  not  leave 
me? — it  will  be  only  a  short  time,"  he  said. 

"Yes.  I  should  have  done  it  before  if  you  had 
asked  me." 

"I  know — but  it  is  better  this  way.  .  .  .  And 
when  I  am — gone — you  must  listen  to  him,  Peggy— 
that  will  be  best  too." 

315 


The  Winning  Chance 

"Yes." 

His  eyes  closed  in  the  ebbing  of  the  strength  that 
had  roused  him.  "Call  them  now,  little  one,"  he 
whispered.  ' '  I  may  not  have  long. ' ' 

They  had  gone,  and  the  two  were  alone.  Varek 
had  ordered  them  to  raise  him  as  high  as  possible 
on  his  couch,  and  she  sat  gathered  in  his  arm,  her 
head  in  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder;  his  eyes  met  the 
upward  look  of  hers,  and  his  big  hand  held  her  small 
one  pressed  against  his  breast.  "Raise  those  shades," 
he  had  commanded  them  before  they  left,  "it  is  grow- 
ing dark  here,"  and  they  sat  now  in  the  full  glow  of 
the  evening  sun.  It  would  be  hours  before  darkness 
came,  but  to  Varek  it  was  already  twilight.  He  raised 
his  eyes  and  caught  through  the  wide  opened  window 
the  fading  glimpse  of  the  city.  He  looked  down  again 
into  the  glory  of  her  gaze,  and  his  lip  lifted  and 
quivered ;  his  world  lay  in  the  circle  of  his  arm  and  he 
was  leaving  it ;  he  had  meant  to  go  without  explana- 
tion, but  he  could  not,  and  he  spoke  distinctly. — 
"Peggy,  you  must  know — I  meant  not  to  tell  you — I 
— I  have  thought  of  it  more  than  once,  but  I  did  not 
take  my  own  life — he  did  it,  Calvin  Bronson.  I  was 
going  away  to  fight  things  out  by  myself,  it  was  the 
best  way  to  help  you — then  I  saw  him  and  was  going 
to  tell  him  what  I  had  known  for  a  year — that  he  was 
my  father.  He  was  drunk,  and  mad  with  fright— 

316 


;<  Heavy  ToU  " 

and  he  shot  me.  ' '  She  spoke  a  trembling  word,  and  he 
drew  her  closer.  "He  has  gone  before  me,  Peggy, 
he  died  last  night,  here  just  below  me,  and  the  Doctor 
is  the  only  one  who  knows  some  of  the  truth.  He 
was  such  as  he  was  born  and  made  himself — I  cannot 
judge  him.  He  was  my  own  father,  and  my  name  is 
not  Varek — I  don't  know  why  my  mother  chose  it 
even.  He  married  her  years  ago  and  she  left  him  very 
soon,  and  I  doubt  if  he  ever  knew  he  had  a  son,  but  she 
was  a  good  woman,  Peggy.  I  had  found  it  all  out  that 
day  I  begged  you  to  marry  me — and  it  gave  me  cour- 
age to  stay  away  from  you His  voice  had  sunk 

to  a  whisper.  "In  all  these  weeks  and  months — I 
have  been  learning — myself.  I  was  a  proud  man  and 
I  held  my  head  high  in  my  arrogance — I  had  owned 
to  no  power  but  my  own  will — my  acts  had  looked  to 
me  as  I  chose  to  see  them.  I  had  loathed  that  old 
man — and  his  deeds — for  years.  It  was  a  contempt 
that  had  entered  my  marrow — and  here  I  was  very 
flesh  of  his  flesh,  and  my  acts  were  no  different  from 
his — no  whit  better.  No,  they  were  worse,  for  I  had 
the  better  brain  and  the  stronger  will.  I  carried  this 
knowledge  about  with  me,  and  my  pride  bit  the  dust. 
You  had  taught  me  to  see  differently — without  our 
knowing  it,  you  had  taught  me,  but  this  last — it  jerked 
the  scales  entirely  from  my  eyes — and — I  saw — myself 

— as  I — was r     His  chest  rose  and  fell  with  his 

deep-drawn  breaths.    "It's  been  a — long — road — I've 

317 


The  Winning  Chance 

travelled,"   he   gasped — "long, — but   I've   paid   toll 

— heavy  toll " 

The  girl  raised  herself,  and  her  arms  crept  round 
his  neck  and  drew  his  head  to  her  breast,  and  her  lips 
trembled  over  the  words,  "But — now — dear — it  will 

all  be — right "    He  could  not  lift  his  head,  but  he 

barely  breathed  her  name,  and  was  still.  .  .  .  The 
sinking  sun  had  dropped  lower,  and  it  touched  his 
eyes  and  lips  into  a  smile,  and  its  radiance  rested 
on  her  bent  head. 


THE    END. 


BEAU   BROCADE 

By       BARONESS       O  R   C  Z    Y 

Authsr  of  "The    Scarlet    Pimpernel"    "I  Will  Repay,"  etc. 

A  captivating  romance  of  love  and  chivalry — the 
adventures  of  a  charming  highwayman  of  the  days 
of  the  English  Pretender. 

"  Faith  and  courage  make  the  story  of  c  Beau 
Brocade '  a  very  interesting  one.  The  hero  is  delight- 
fully fascinating — bubbling  over  with  exuberance  of  youth ; 
nothing  is  a  hardship  for  him.  He  reminds  one  of  Dumas's 
famous  D'Artagnan,  and  most  especially  in  his  fighting 
escapades.  Gloriously  dramatic  is  the  fight  in  the  forge, 
when,  by  his  prowess,  Beau  Brocade  holds  at  bay  a  lot  of 
redcoats,  escaping  on  his  steed  c  Jack  O'Lantern.'  " 

— N.  Y.  American  Book  Review  Contest. 

"  The  story  is  so  well  told,  so  full  of  life  and  action, 
that  one  never  loses  interest  from  start  to  finish." 

— Pittsburgh  Dispatch. 

"  Let  no  one  begin  reading  this  tale  late  in  the  even- 
ing, for  there  is  no  stopping-place  till  the  end,  and  the  end 
is  worth  reaching."  — The  Congregationalist,  Boston. 

"  The  illustrations  in  color  are  unusually  attractive." 

— Chicago  Tribune. 

FOUR  FULL-PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN  COLOR  BY 

CLARENCE  F.  UNDERWOOD. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS      PHILADELPHIA 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-Series  444 


3  1158  00376  7091 


A    000120061     7 


